


Les Parrains (Otherwise known as The Godfathers)

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2019-09-26 17:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 106,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17145719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: Merry Christmas again everyone!Aside from my on-going series Eight Years After, I came up with this idea for a story.This won't be a long first chapter. Sort of testing the waters here. Let me know if there's any interest in seeing this continue.Heaven knows where I'll take it but it may be fun.Thanks!++++





	1. Chapter 1

_Gascony_

Once upon a time, in the village of Lupiac, a child was born to a loving couple. That petit grew up healthy and strong under the watchful eyes of his parents and two parrains.

Always a precocious child, young Charles delighted in finding mischief to get into or, as his parents loved to say, the lad had a talent for mischief to find him. As the years flew by that _talent_ never wavered, much to the dismay of said parents.

Alexandre, being a former Musketeer himself, had taught his son all he knew of swordsmanship. The good... the bad... and the ugly that went along with it. Charles turned out to be an apt pupil, developing his own style of lightning quick moves which astounded Alexandre. So much so that he pitied anyone daring to challenge the boy.

Francoise, being of the gentler sex, never understood the need for war. If it weren't for men bent on securing power, she would never have had to worry about her only child following in Alexandre's footsteps. Clucking her tongue over Charles' latest shirt and breeches to be ruined, Francoise went to get her mending supplies along with the latest batch of healing salve she had recently prepared. Pointing a finger at a minor cut to his arm, her eyes skimmed over the boy's face. "What are we to do with you, Charles?" When he was about to open his mouth, she shooshed him with a finger in the air. "None of your sweet talk to get me out of this mood either."

Wisely, d'Artagnan kept silent. Once maman was like this it was the best thing to do. Playing the innocent, adding a pout to go along with his sad puppy dog-eyed look aimed at her, d'Artagnan couldn't resist teasing maman."Send me to mes parrains."

"Those two," she gave an unladylike snort which made her son's eyes grow wide with surprise, "were just as bad as you when they were younger men." Turning away while searching in a cupboard Francoise then swirled around to stab Charles with a long look. "They weren't much better than your father in influencing you to become a soldier."

It hadn't been news to d'Artagnan that maman wasn't pleased with the idea of sending him to Paris upon his eighteenth natal day. Sometimes, while lying abed in the eve, he would listen to his parents quietly arguing downstairs over it. Whenever that happened, he'd sit up to light a candle on his nightstand. Withdrawing one of his many letters from within a drawer d'Artagnan would read it over and over again, until he knew it word for word. When his heavy lids threatened to close over sleepy eyes, he would slip it back inside the drawer. Then d'Artagnan would dream of the future where he would one day ride into Paris to be presented at the Royal Palace.

++++

Years passed until the young Gascon was old enough to fulfill his destiny.

With tears swimming in her eyes, Francoise shoved the leather satchel into Charles' eager hands. It contained enough provisions to tide him over the two week journey to Paris. Even if it took Charles longer to travel there, Francoise packed enough to last him. "Be careful that you don't drop that satchel. It contains a jar of my healing ointment along with the recipe for it."

"I'll protect it with my life." His attempt at levity fell short with maman, making d'Artagnan's smile slip.

"And don't forget to write us at least once a month to let us know how you're coming along." Leaning into her husband, Francoise suppressed her sniffles the best she could. Appearing as a watering pot wasn't the last image she wanted Charles to have of her.

Realizing maman was only prolonging the agony of their parting, d'Artagnan took her by the shoulders to place a kiss upon her brow. "I promise to do so." Upon releasing her, d'Artagnan was then engulfed in a fierce bear-hug. "Papa, you'll bruise my ribs if you keep that up." Laughing, he managed to wriggle free of the warm embrace.

"Upon my word, son, if you forget your promise I shall not hesitate to write both your parrains." A twinkle lit up Alexandre's dark eyes, letting his threat hang in the air.

Mounting his horse Zad, d'Artagnan gazed upon his parents. It hit him then that it would be a very long time until he would see them again. A deep sadness filled his heart but d'Artagnan was at last eighteen years of age. He would now act accordingly at their parting, not shedding tears like a petit garcon. In response to papa's warning, d'Artagnan lifted a hand and said, "You shall not have to resort to doing so, papa." Rolling his eyes, his quiet snort had not gone unheard.

"I do hope you show better manners than that once you're presented to Their Majestys, Charles." Her sharp tone was belied by the loving look Francoise gave her son.

"I'm quite positive that if I forget myself I shall instantly be called upon the carpet by both of mes parrains." His own retort made d'Artagnan grimace. "I remember very well what happened when I was nine."

Exchanging a fond look with one another, Francoise and Alexandre knew to what Charles alluded too.

"One last word of advice," said Alexandre. " You shall encounter people from various walks of life, upon this path you have chosen. Treat them all with the respect they deserve and you shall serve your king and country well."

"And the ones I encounter that do not deserve my respect?" neatly countered, d'Artagnan arched a brow.

"Tis what your sword's for." When Francoise loudly rebuked him over his choice of words Alexandre simply grinned, winking at the boy for extra measure.

Containing the laughter bubbling up inside him, d'Artagnan's long fingers tangled in Zad's mane. "I shall take your words to heart, papa." Blowing a kiss to maman, he waved farewell to his parents. With a click of his tongue he tugged on Zad's reins. Gently kneeing his horse in the sides, d'Artagnan urged his mount to take the road that would eventually lead him toward his future.

++++

_Notes:_

_Parrain_ \- godfather  
_Mes Parrains_ \- my godfathers

 _Petit garcon_ \- little boy


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Mid morn - Paris_

When Paris came into view, d'Artagnan took in a deep breath. He had made it. All in all his journey here had been relatively uneventful, for which he thanked the good Lord for. Even if he had met up with trouble, d'Artagnan knew how to handle himself and hadn't been afraid of traveling alone.

Arriving in the city d'Artagnan's eyes took everything in, from street end to street end. It seemed to him that upon nearly every corner was what papa would have referred to as _a woman of easy virtue_. The prostitutes, for d'Artagnan believed in calling a spade a spade, all kept trying to get his attention. He didn't think it was because of his looks, even though maman always told him he was quite a handsome lad but to not let it go to his head. D'Artagnan figured they thought he was an easy mark, being new to the city and all.

Catching the attention of a gentleman coming out of a building, d'Artagnan hoped he wouldn't appear too stupid when he asked for directions. "Monsieur, how far is it to the Garrison?"

"You'll need to go clear down the end of the business section here. You'll then see where the street market's set up. From there it'll take you only a few miles more to reach the Garrison." Scratching his balding head, Thomas stared up into the youth's face. "From Gascony are you?"

Chuckling, d'Artagnan grinned. "Shows does it?"

"Olive skin gives it away every time." Smiling back at the boy, Thomas added, "Garrison captain's the same way. He hails from that part of the country too."

"Merci for the directions, Monsieur." Dipping his head, d'Artagnan pulled lightly on the reins and turned Zad onto the correct path. When riding past the markets, his eye was caught by some lovely scarves he was sure maman would have coveted. Once he had himself settled, d'Artagnan promised himself to return here and purchase several for her. The sounds of merchants trying to sell their wares while haggling with their patrons grew distant, as d'Artagnan took the last few miles to the Garrison.

++++

_Garrison_

Bending over the balcony's railing, Treville cast an anxious gaze over the courtyard. More importantly he focused upon the entrance to the Garrison. For the past few days he had been keeping a lookout for the boy. The lad should be arriving anytime now. Unless something unforeseen had occurred. Which he prayed wouldn't be the case.

His men probably thought he was keeping an eagle eye out upon them. Little did they know their captain was eagerly awaiting the arrival of his filleul. Watching a youngster taking the steps two at a time to reach him holding out his hand Treville took the missive from the runner. "Catch your breath, lad." Unfolding it, scanning the contents quickly, he burst out laughing. Waving the boy away, Treville re-read the note. " _Is he here yet?_ " Ah, it appeared that he wasn't the only one counting the days.

Though neither one of them could be blamed for their impatience, since it had been several long years since either of them had seen the fiery Gascon boy they dearly loved. Once the lad finally got here, Treville would take d'Artagnan to see his other parrain. It would serve his older friend right if Treville took his good old time in taking the lad to him. For nearly the entire past week, he had been receiving daily letters from the other man asking the same thing as today's had.

About to give up and go back inside his office, Treville spotted a single rider entering the Garrison. Even though it had been awhile, he would have known that face anywhere. The boy was his père all over again. Feeling the years melt away, Treville remembered how he and his two friends had grown up together and had gotten into trouble together. Years later two of them had headed off to serve France as soldiers while the other was destined for the church. Shaking off the memories, he headed down the steps to the courtyard.

In previous missives to the boy, Treville had discussed how they would greet each other once reunited. D'Artagnan had been adamant in his letters that he didn't want anyone to know of their relationship. It would be hard but not impossible to do. Part of him understood the lad's reasoning. His filleul didn't want others to think he would be getting special treatment. Little did d'Artagnan realize that, if anything, it would be the complete opposite of that.

Waiting for the youngster to dismount, Jean-Armand clapped a hand upon d'Artagnan's left shoulder. "Tis good to see you made it to Paris in one piece, lad."

"Was there any doubt that I would have arrived any other way?" Arching a brow, a growing smirk covered d'Artagnan's face.

Tapping the boy's nose, Jean-Armand leaned in close. "Don't get cocky."

"Cocky? Who me?" Laughing, d'Artagnan stepped away taking a hold of Zad's reins. "Where can I settle my horse?"

"Stable's over there. Come on I'll take you myself." Waiting for d'Artagnan to follow him Jean-Armand led the way. "As soon as you're done here I know someone else that's been quite anxious to see you too."

Handing over his mount to Beau, one of the Garrison's young stable-hands, d'Artagnan turned to face his parrain. "How far is it to the Palais-Cardinal anyway?"

"A mere twenty minutes." Grabbing d'Artagnan's arm, Jean-Armand led the lad over to a different stall. "We'll saddle another horse for you to take. Yours needs to rest after its travels."

Seeing the sense in that, d'Artagnan went with him to get another mount. Now that he was actually here, he almost couldn't believe it. For it was one thing to have this man, a captain of the king's finest Musketeers, as his parrain but to have the First Minister of France as one too... bien, how could one such as he be so lucky?

++++

_A short time later – Palais-Cardinal_

Having been announced, Jean-Armand and d’Artagnan strode inside Armand’s luxurious office. Barely had the younger man’s feet crossed the threshold when he had been engulfed in a warm embrace.

“ _At last!_ ” exclaimed Armand wearing a fond smile. “Took you long enough, boy.” His voice roughened with emotion. It had been years too long, as far as he was concerned.

Rolling his eyes, d’Artagnan’s smart mouth ran away with him. “One ages a year at a time, oncle. Sorry I was late.” His smirk was back in place once more. "You do realize I wasn’t supposed to be here until I turned eighteen?” Aside from being his parrains, d'Artagnan considered them as honorary oncles as well. Papa never had any siblings but had always referred to these men as his brothers.

“There’s that Gascon sass that always seemed to annoy poor Francoise.” Amusement lit Armand’s dark eyes, remembering a time that she would chase the youth around the yard for talking back to his elders.

“D’Artagnan wouldn’t be d’Artagnan if he acted any other way,” put in Jean-Armand with a hearty chuckle.

“If you two are quite done.” His own dark eyes danced, simply because d’Artagnan was so happy to be amongst two other members of his extended famille.

"Actually I'm not," said Jean-Armand. "I couldn't welcome you the way I wanted when you arrived. Not unless I wanted curious Musketeers peppering me with questions later." So he took the opportunity now to happily embraced his filleul. Releasing d'Artagnan, he stepped back. His shrewd gazed locked upon the lad's features. "Tell me, d'Artagnan, did Francoise make you promise to write home every month?" Watching the boy frown in thought made Jean-Armand want to laugh but he refrained from doing so.

"What made you ask me that?" Puzzled, d'Artagnan's eyes narrowed upon his parrain.

"Because in Alexandre's last letter to me he mentioned what Francoise was going to say to you when the time came." Exchanging amused grins with Armand, Jean-Armand noted the lad rolling his eyes again.

"In answer to your question," shrugging a shoulder, d'Artagnan gave his parrain a sheepish look, "then oui I promised her I'd keep in touch regularly." When both older men began chuckling, d'Artagnan blushed beet red.

Clapping his hands together, Armand remarked, "I see you haven't outgrown that stage yet either. You always did embarrass a tad too easily."

"I hope there won't be any cause for me to be so here." Praying he wouldn't end up making a hash of everything, after all his training, d'Artagnan looked away from their amused faces.

"I've ordered dinner to be sent up here," said Armand. "Normally I would have loved nothing better, d'Artagnan, than to have taken you out to one of our finest restaurants but since you want to keep a low profile tis best we do it this way for now."

"I agree," responded d'Artagnan. "It would be very hard to explain why I was seen dining with not only the captain but the cardinal as well."

"Until you gain your commission, lad, where you lodge will be entirely up to you." Sitting down at the table that had been set up for them to dine upon, Jean-Armand's eyes never lost contact with his filleul. "Once you become a Musketeer you'll have the choice of either living in the barracks or staying in your own apartments."

"I believe the Bonacieuxs just lost a tenant," murmured Armand as he too joined his friend at the table.

Grinning, Jean-Armand nodded his head. "Which is where I'm taking young d'Artagnan once we're done here." He reached to fill his wine glass. "You can decide whether or not it would suit your needs."

"Would I be able to afford the rent there?" Taking a sip of wine d'Artagnan swirled it around his tongue savoring the flavor.

"Oui, tis a reasonable amount and anyway your parents are going to be helping you financially for a time." Noting the uncomfortable expression upon the boy's face, Jean-Armand placed a hand upon d'Artagnan's arm. "It'll be only until you're commissioned. From that point on you should be fine."

"Don't forget," interrupted Armand, "both of us also have agreed to help you out when it comes time for you to buy the necessary weapons and other paraphernalia you'll be needing."

"I'm beginning to feel like a charity case." Leaning back in his chair, d'Artagnan stared at the delicious meal set before him. Suddenly his appetite deserted him.

" _Non!_ " His sharp retort brought the lad's head up to stare back at him. Shaking a finger at his filleul, Armand said, "This is the day we've been looking forward to for years, d'Artagnan. We're more than prepared to help you with your dream. You've wanted to become a Musketeer ever since you realized Alexandre had been one."

"You were all of seven years of age when you began playing with that wooden sword I made you," chortled Jean-Armand. "I swear there wasn't an inch of farmland you hadn't covered where you were found brandishing that weapon at some poor soul."

"You took on all comers, no matter the size. Including us whenever we had the time to do battle," laughed Armand while tucking into his dinner.

"Besides, d'Artagnan," talking with his mouthful, Jean-Armand still managed to get his message across, "you're famille."

Feeling better about things, d'Artagnan inhaled the aroma of his baked chicken. Suddenly his appetite was restored. Digging in, he ate with gusto. Enjoying the closeness of being with them once again, d'Artagnan listened to various stories they began to entertain him with. Tonight was all about famille, that was true. Still, he couldn't help but think upon the coming morrow where he would be introduced to Their Majestys.

++++

_Notes:_

Changing history here on Cardinal Richelieu's background only because I can. LOL! Well actually I had to since I have him hailing from Gascony like the others.

 _Filleul_ \- godson  
_Parrain_ – godfather  
_Oncle_ – uncle  
_Famille_ \- family


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day after Captain Treville and d’Artagnan left the Palais-Cardinal_

_Bonacieux Residence_

“May I help you?’ Surprised to see the captain of the Musketeers gracing her doorstep, Constance for once was lost for words. This wasn’t a usual thing to happen. Oh they got the occasional drifter, or merchant, that passed through the city but up until now they never had anything to do with the king’s men.

Clapping a hand upon d’Artagnan’s slim shoulder, Treville pushed the lad forward a bit. Of course the boy wasn’t expecting the gentle push and stumbled slightly, making his filleul blush profusely. “This young man needs to rent a room while training to become a Musketeer. Could even become a permanent arrangement but that would be his decision."

Passing a critical eye over the Gascon youth, Constance wondered at his age. Especially since the lad didn’t even have a proper beard yet just a bit of peach fuzz beneath his chin. Of course that was neither here nor there, as a few of the soldiers she had seen in passing didn’t sport one either.

Knowing exactly what thoughts were swirling around in that pretty head of hers, Treville whispered a few words in the boy’s ear. It was then that d’Artagnan spoke up.

“Even though I’m only eighteen I am quite capable of paying your monthly rent, Mademoiselle.” Holding out his hand, he introduced himself. “I’m d’Artagnan.”

“Tis Madame actually,” corrected Constance returning the gesture. “You’ll only be a recruit.” Making a face, she gave a quick glance toward the older man who was letting the boy speak for himself now. “Trust me when I say that comparing the captain’s soldiers to poor church mice is an understatement.”

“I come from a farming community in Lupiac.” Exchanging a proud look with his parrain, d’Artagnan smiled. “Tis a prosperous farm and my parents will be sending me a monthly stipend, if that helps to ease your mind.”

“Which I believe would be more than enough for your rent,” added Treville.

“I don’t mean to insult any church mice,” teased d’Artagnan, his dark eyes twinkling, “but even having met my monthly rent I should have enough pay leftover to live upon until my commission is earned.” Her blue eyes were quite eloquent in her disbelief of his words. Madame probably thought he was stretching the truth to suite his own purposes. Probably she believed he wouldn’t have anything left after purchasing his equipment. But the young woman wasn’t to know that he would be having the help of his parrains for that.

“I can see you’re going to be a handful.” Waving both men inside her home Constance turned to her husband Jacques. The latter, having just entered their parlor, wore a quizzical expression. After making the appropriate introductions, and explaining how the young Gascon expected to pay his rent, Jacques instantly agreed with her to take d’Artagnan in as a boarder as they needed the money.

“Er, Captain Treville, how long does it take one to become a Musketeer?” Even taking into consideration that the boy was to receive monies from home, Jacques belatedly concerned himself with what would happen if the stipend came late or not at all. A recruit made a mere pittance compared to a Musketeer and even their pay wasn’t quite up to snuff. Feeling a nudge to his side, Jacques caught the glare aimed at him from his wife. Perhaps there was a bit more to the story than he had heard.

“Until the lad catches the king’s eye and proves his worth, only then would d’Artagnan gain his pauldron.” Noting Monsieur Bonacieux was worried that he may have ended up with a freeloader Treville inwardly sighed, seeing how their secret would possibly end up causing problems. Before anything else could be said, Treville thanked the couple and told them d'Artagnan would be back later. "I still have to introduce him around."

"I'll freshen up your room for you, d'Artagnan." Smartly turning upon her heels Constance headed upstairs, while Jacques saw the men out.

++++

_Shortly later, Royal Palace - King Louis' chambers_

"What a fine strapping, young lad." Circling the boy, sizing him up, King Louis liked what he saw. "They grow them tall and strong in Gascony I see." When the youth began chuckling, and threw a quick glance over at Treville, King Louis realized why. "Bien, my old fox isn't quite as tall as you but he makes up for it with his cunning and way with a sword." Knowing that the lad was just as proud of Treville as he was, King Louis asked what had been on his mind. "Could the same be said of you, d'Artagnan?"

"I'm not sure about being cunning. At least not yet." Not wanting to boast to His Majesty yet needing to be truthful, d'Artagnan was honest in his assessment of his own skill. "However I have been trained by papa and mes parrains in swordplay." Shyly dipping his head until his dark hair swung down to cover his eyes, he quietly murmured, "I'm quite good." Feeling his chin tipped up by a gentle finger, d'Artagnan gazed into the king’s amused eyes.

"Say it like you mean it, d'Artagnan." It wasn't a demand so much as King Louis wanted the boy to own up to his own potential.

Surprised eyes latched onto the young monarch’s steady gaze. A smirk dared to sneak out across d'Artagnan's features and in a stronger voice he obeyed the royal. "I'm very good with a blade, Sire."

"Much, much better." Clapping his hands together, King Louis gayly laughed. "You and I are close in age." Catching the puzzled frown appearing upon the youngster's face, he shrugged. "All of my Musketeers are older than myself and so I was eager for you to finally arrive in hopes that you and I could become friends."

Shocked, d'Artagnan's head swiveled around to catch his parrain's knowing expression. "Your Majesty, I'm humbled by your request. But I'm only eighteen and up until now have only ever worked on my parent's farm." He didn't believe there was any common ground between them to build a friendship upon.

"I'm going to have to look in a mirror again, Treville," chuckled King Louis. "Do I look that much older than you, d'Artagnan?" The boy remained silent which gave him pause for a moment. "I'm twenty four. Not such a great age," he sighed. "Everyone I deal with either has gray hair or is going bald and it would be nice for a change to speak with someone younger than myself, aside from Anne that is."

"You do know I'm trying to keep a low profile and if Your Majesty singles me out won't that cause some talk?"

"Ah, oui." Rubbing his chin in thought, King Louis stared at the boy. "Nearly forgot that we're keeping your relationship to the cardinal and my old fox a secret for now." Smiling gleefully, he added, "The palace has many secret passages. Now would be a good time to start airing them out so I'm sure we could make use of them."

"I shall show d'Artagnan some of them in due course, Sire." This boded well for the lad's future thought Treville. He had known Louis was looking forward to the boy's company but hadn't realized that the young king wanted his filleul as a friend. But now it began to make sense, because Louis had been pestering Treville almost as badly as Armand had for when d'Artagnan was going to get here. "For now I'm going to introduce the lad to some of my men."

"Get on with it then and keep me apprised how the lad fares." With a guiding hand upon the young Gascon's back, King Louis saw him out. "I shall send word to Treville whenever I'd like your company, d'Artagnan."

"I shall look forward to it, Sire." A bit bemused by his audience with the king, d'Artagnan followed his parrain out of the palace.

++++

_The Garrison_

"Is your butthole jealous of all the crap that comes out of your mouth, Pierre?" Hands upon his hips, Porthos hovered over the prone body below him.

"All I said was..." voice trailing off when the larger Musketeer leered down at him, Pierre thought better of what he was about to say in regards to last eve's card game. Even if Pierre thought Porthos had cheated, it wasn’t worth his life to argue over the matter again.

"Mon frere, why is poor Pierre down there and you standing over him looking like le diable himself?" questioned Aramis, pretending that he didn't know the true reason.

"If'n 'e knows what's good for 'im Pierre will stay down there." Growling out his words, Porthos saw Athos' approaching them. The older man's scowl was more pronounced than usual. "Don't ya start on me," warned Porthos, shaking a finger at his friend.

With exaggerated interest, Athos stared hard at Pierre. Then with a long suffering sigh he focused upon Porthos' highly upset face. "If people want me to stop being so judgemental, they should stop doing so many stupid things that I am forced to acknowledge."

Porthos heard the veiled warning in Athos' voice and decided not to pull the tiger's tail further.

Standing a little way's off were Treville and d'Artagnan. Having seen and heard the exchange, Treville was not amused. Not so his filleul. D'Artagnan's eyes literally were dancing with mirth. "Tis not funny, lad."

"Those are your inseparables?" Trying to wipe his face devoid of amusement, d'Artagnan wasn't succeeding very well.

"Unfortunately," muttered Treville. When the boy snorted at his words, his lips twitched slightly. "Come on before Porthos changes his mind and throws Pierre in the horse trough." Not like he hasn't done it before but his filleul didn't need to know that. As they walked toward them, Treville noted Pierre scrambling to his feet desperately trying to dust off his uniform.

"Gents." Nodding to his men, Treville's sharp gaze rested upon Porthos' massive frame. He knew he was making the larger man uncomfortable by glaring at him but Treville didn't care. Without looking at the other man he said, "Pierre, don't you have someplace else to be?"

"Oui, sir."

"I never knew Pierre could move so fast." Amused, Aramis observed the other soldier making great haste away from them to duck inside the stable. It probably was safer in there than being out here near Porthos.

Ignoring the marksman's words, Treville pushed d'Artagnan forward. "I’d like you three to meet our newest recruit fresh from Gascony."

"He's young," quietly stating the obvious, Aramis glanced sideways at Athos. But as usual he couldn't read his brother's face.

"I have excellent hearing, Aramis, and so does the lad." Irritated, Treville kept his temper in check but not by much.

Since neither of his friends moved a muscle, Porthos stepped up to the boy and held out his hand. "Welcome..." It was then he realized that the captain hadn’t told them the kid's name.

"D'Artagnan." He shook the huge man's hand. "The pleasure is truly mine."

Realizing their own lack of manners both Athos and Aramis followed their friend's example, neither of them not quite sure what to make of the young Gascon.

Studying the three older men, d'Artagnan's head tilted to one side. Taking in the crows feet near Athos' blue eyes plus frown lines across the man’s forehead, the slight graying at the temples of all the inseparables and the scar across Porthos' left eye, d'Artagnan voiced his thoughts out loud. "Wrinkles mean you laughed... gray hairs means you cared and scars mean you lived." D’Artagnan’s eyes touched upon each soldier as he said this, acknowledging each of them in his own way.

"Think I'm gonna like this kid." Thinking perhaps it was about time for some new blood amongst the hardened soldiers, Porthos grinned at Aramis.  "And I'm a good judge of character."

"You're a poor judge of character." Sadly shaking his head, Aramis slapped Porthos upon the back. "Especially when sober."

"Do not pay them any attention, d'Artagnan." Standing beside the boy, Athos noted how young the lad really was. "You were wrong about me though. I rarely laugh."

"At one time you did," swiftly countered d'Artagnan. "Everyone's laughed at some point in their life. Even when circumstances change for them."

Having neither the time nor patience to argue the matter, Athos noted Treville's unhappy gaze. Realizing Porthos had not shown in a good light, Athos tried to steer the captain's mind elsewhere. "To what unit will young d'Artagnan be attached?"

An idea came to Treville then. Originally he wanted the boy to work with these three. However he wanted it to be their idea. Knowing they may resent him for ordering them to take the lad under their wings, Treville tried another tactic instead. "I was thinking Marcel’s squad." Leaving the inseparables standing there with their mouths gaping open, he took d'Artagnan away.

"Oncle, I thought you wanted me to train under them?" Disappointed, and confused, d'Artagnan waited for his parrain to explain what changed the older man's mind.

"I want them to think it was their idea to take you in, d'Artagnan."

"By giving me to a different unit?" Clearly d'Artagnan didn't understand his parrain's strategy.

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing." Winking at the lad, Treville laughed. "When they see how your training goes with Marcel and his men, they'll come running." Taking his young charge away, Treville led d'Artagnan over to his new unit.

++++

_Notes:_

_Parrain_ \- godfather  
_Mes parrains_ \- my godfathers  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Oncle_ – uncle  
_Le diable_ – the devil

 _Quote: "Is your butthole jealous of all the crap that comes out of your mouth?"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "If people want me to stop being so judgemental, they should stop doing so many stupid things that I'm forced to acknowledge."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Wrinkles mean you laughed... gray hairs means you cared and scars mean you lived."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, somewhere after two in the afternoon – Garrison courtyard_

Though the inseparables were kept busy training with other soldiers or recruits they tried to keep an eye upon their newest soon to be member. However, observing the young Gascon’s training begin with Marcel proved to be painful for them, as it appeared the boy was showing up the older Musketeer with his own skill.

“Whelp ain’t gonna learn anythin’ from Marcel at that rate.” Looking away from the spectacle, Porthos shook his head. “Kid’s been dancin’ all around ‘im.”

Covering his eyes, Athos’ head hung down reaching his chin. The lad was quite good for a novice and one so young. Quick and fleet of foot was obvious as he watched d’Artagnan easily dodge a lunging thrust of Marcel’s sword. His fellow brother couldn’t even land a hit upon the boy.

“ _Ouch!_ ” Wincing when Marcel tripped over his own two feet, trying to get out of d’Artagnan’s way, Aramis stared over at Athos. He could tell it was hurting his older friend just to witness this. Aramis was finding it difficult as well. The way it was going it appeared that the youngster could have given pointers to Marcel, instead of the other way around.

“You know there is something vaguely familiar about that Gascon’s technique,” hummed Athos, more to himself than his brothers. Catching sight of a smug looking Treville leaning over the balcony, watching the proceedings, Athos’ brow arched. He had never seen the captain appear so pleased over a recruit’s performance before. It began to make him wonder about it. Trouble was Athos didn’t have much time to ponder it. He would put his questions aside for later.

++++

Leaning down to give Marcel a hand up, d’Artagnan helped the older soldier to get back upon his feet. “Sorry about that.” Actually though he really wasn’t. Expecting more from a Musketeer, he had been deeply disappointed. Hoping that his parrain was correct and that the inseparables would see how badly the direction of his training was going to go with Marcel, d’Artagnan prayed he wouldn’t be assigned to this man for much longer. When he heard a rough sounding voice calling out to Marcel, d'Artagnan whipped his head around to see the giant Porthos casually leaning against a post. The dark-skinned Musketeer’s sour expression told d’Artagnan that he wasn’t pleased.

“ _Marcel! What in the ‘ell are ya tryin’ ta teach the whelp by lyin’ on your ass, eh?_ ”

Listening to others laughing at Porthos’ comment, d’Artagnan noted Marcel’s face taking on a ruddy hue. If he had been the other man, blushing would have been the last of d’Artagnan’s problems.

Throwing Porthos a dark look, Marcel went on to inform d’Artagnan that Henri was going to give him a brief taste of how to properly throw a poignard at a standing target.

For d’Artagnan's part, he figured Marcel must have badly needed the break to turn him over so quickly to another soldier.

++++

"You're not making Marcel's Noël list this way, mon ami." Aramis could see that Porthos' uncomplimentary remark didn't appear to bother his friend all that much.

"I love makin' people who already hate me, hate me even more." There wasn't much love lost between Porthos and Marcel. All because they had been interested in the same barmaid and she chose him over Marcel. The other man's nose had stayed bent out of shape ever since. So with a nudge to Aramis' side, Porthos continued to see how the Gascon made out.

++++

Following Henri over to the target practice area, d’Artagnan observed the Musketeer as the man sighted the bullseye, drew his arm back and threw. Unfortunately, Henri missed the target by a mile. It ended up two targets down from their own. D'Artagnan heard two other Musketeers grumbling to Henri about sticking to his own target and not making use of theirs.

“That was a poor example, lad.” Shaking his head, not understanding how he could have missed, Henri walked over to fetch his weapon. Several more of his fellow soldiers teased him the entire way. By the time he re-joined the youth, Henri figured his face must have turned beet red. Now he knew how Marcel felt. When sounds of clapping reached his ears, Henri noted it came from Aramis. Not one to pick a fight with an inseparable, he tried to ignore the marksman.

"Why the 'ell are ya clappin' for? Henri missed." Hands upon his hips, Porthos' glared at his friend.

"I clapped because tis finished, not because I like it, Porthos." Putting his hands to his mouth, Aramis called out, “ _If you start out that way with the lad, Henri, he's not going to be of much use to anyone out in the field._ ” When the other soldier grimaced, Aramis let the rest of what he was thinking go unsaid.

Gently pushing Henri off to one side d’Artagnan sized up his target, quickly drew back both of his arms, and threw not one but two poignards simultaneously at the bullseye. Both weapons struck the center mark. Wanting to preen a bit but knowing it wouldn’t show him in a good light d’Artagnan turned toward his teacher, a small smile graced his face.

Henri could only stare back and forth, from the target to the young Gascon, in pure amazement. Scratching at his bearded chin he mumbled a few unintelligible words, while marching over to retrieve the boy’s poignards.

“I’ll be double damned.” Whistling through his teeth, Porthos could only admire the whelp’s style. “Aramis I never seen ya pull that one off before.”

“I don’t believe I could, mon ami.” Admitting his own limitations, Aramis too stood in awe of what the youngster had accomplished. “Athos?”

“Something about this young Gascon doesn’t sit right with me.” Was all Athos would offer for the moment. “Treville told me later that he was only eighteen years of age but the pup performs as one older than his years.”

"Tis quite evident that the lad has had extensive training from someone." Shrugging a shoulder, Aramis' lips pursed. "Either that or the boy's a natural."

"Natural what?" Laughing, Porthos wasn't sure he agreed with his brother. Definitely the whelp had been trained, mixed in with some natural born ability. But there wasn't any way the kid was self taught using his own skill.

"Henri looks to be in shock." Athos would have been too after that display. "It would seem the pup is now to be handed off to Renald."

++++

Renald was not as good a marksman as Aramis... then again who was? Still his own accuracy wasn't bad. Eager to see how this boy handled a musket, Renald set up the target.

"I admit that using a musket was not something I had much experience with. Not much use for it where I came from." Going into a short explanation of his life upon a country farm, d'Artagnan took the musket Renald gave him. "I'm much better though with pistols."

"We'll tackle that after I see how you do with that weapon in your hands. This way I can tell how much instruction you'll be needing with it." Folding his arms, Renald stepped back a ways to watch the lad. D'Artagnan's shots were not bad but they could have been better. At least Renald knew where to start. Throwing a pistol toward the lad, he was impressed how deftly the youngster caught it in the air. "I'll go first." Swearing under his breath, Renald was appalled at his own performance. His accuracy had been way off the mark. The balls from his pistol barely hit the outermost ring upon the target. Not a way to start off with his pupil. A sideways glance at the Gascon lad proved the boy, at least, was not laughing at him. "Off day for me I'm afraid. You go next, d'Artagnan."

D'Artagnan refrained from rolling his eyes, when Renald nearly missed the target altogether. When he was done for today, d'Artagnan was going to have a word or two with his parrain. Not in the least happy he raised his right arm, eyeballing the target, and took the shot. When Renald swore again, d'Artagnan couldn't help but feel somewhat smug.

" _Merde! Dead center!_ " Gazing at the lad in wonder, Renald didn't know what to make of this youngster.

"I did tell you I was better with a pistol." Noting the older man's downcast expression, d'Artagnan's dark eyes followed Renald's figure as the Musketeer began to walk away from him. Where was he going? "Ummm, are you coming back?" The soldier never responded. Just kept on walking like a man going to his own hanging. "I guess not."

++++

"Whelp's left them dazed and confused," cheekily remarked Porthos, his voice laced with amusement. "

"Isn't that what we usually do to our own victims?" Grinning, Aramis lightly punched Porthos in the shoulder.

"The child is not going to learn anything from those men." Biting off further words, Athos had to wonder again what Treville had been thinking saddling d'Artagnan with that unit.

"Seems ta me the kid doesn't need much in the way of schoolin', Athos." Watching the Gascon still standing where Renald had left him, Porthos couldn't remember a time he had been so entertained. For that alone he could buy d'Artagnan a drink at The Wren.

"There is always room for improvement, Porthos," sternly admonished Athos. "He needs more work with muskets, that much was obvious. Plus we have no idea how d'Artagnan would fare in hand-to-hand yet."

"I hate for the pup to judge the Musketeers as inept soldiers," mused Aramis, with a careless wave of one hand.

"I am itching to spar with the lad myself but he is not mine to teach." Scowling, Athos' blue eyes shifted towards Treville's balcony.

"Ya thinkin' of askin' the captin' ta give us the kid?" It was obvious that Athos wasn't happy with the way things stood with their newest recruit.

Before Athos could respond, d'Artagnan walked past all of them. The pup appeared upset. Athos couldn't blame the boy. He would have been as well, if it had been him. But what surprised Athos was the fact that the lad was taking the steps directly up to Treville's office. It was not the done thing to do by new cadets. You took your grievance up with the leader of the unit one had been assigned. Then that Musketeer would take up the problem for the recruit with their commanding officer.

"D'Artagnan didn't seem very chipper, mes freres." It was a shame that Aramis wouldn't get a chance to teach the young Gascon all about firearms. In the proper hands the lad could possibly come close to Aramis' own accuracy with a musket. Having been exposed to how the boy could shoot a pistol, there didn't appear too much that needed taught in that area. However, there were other types of firearms Aramis would love to show him.

"If'n the whelp's thinkin' of changin' the captin's mind about who ta train with, I'll buy the first round of drinks tonight when we go out." Usually once Captain Treville assigned a man to a unit, it was rare that the older officer would make a change. The circumstances would have to be extreme.

"We cannot stand idle pondering what is or is not going to happen." Stabbing each of his friends with a long look, Athos motioned with his hand for them to get a move on. "Duties await us all." With a last look upward toward the balcony, Athos left for his next sparring match with Simon.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

A quick rap upon the door and d'Artagnan swiftly entered the room. Resting his back upon the closed door, his gazed never wavered from his parrain who was sitting at the desk.

"Ah," chuckling, Jean-Armand waved his filleul to approach, "there's a familiar fire in your eyes that tells me your training wasn't all you thought it would be."

"If you dare to laugh I think I'll strangle you, Oncle." Flinging himself down into the nearest chair, d'Artagnan pouted.

"Oh don't do that," moaned Jean-Armand. "I never could resist anything you wanted when you pulled that face upon me."

"Is it working?" Quirking a brow, d'Artagnan devilishly smiled.

"Give it a few days longer, lad."

"How are they still in the Musketeers? Tis a wonder they don't maim themselves." Huffing out his disbelief, d'Artagnan wagged a finger in the air. "Papa would be appalled and you know it."

"I admit that Marcel and his men aren't quite as adept as most of my Musketeers but they have proved themselves to be loyal, trustworthy soldiers." Knowing d'Artagnan didn't believe him, Jean-Armand added, "The problem lies with you being better than them... not that they aren't that skilled."

"In other words you're saying that I have an unfair advantage" His parrain was right, in that d'Artagnan had been taught by the best. Wouldn't the Musketeers be shocked to discover that their own cardinal was as fine a swordsman as their captain? D'Artagnan counted his lucky stars that his famille had been very talented. "Do you know that I must have intimidated poor Renald because after I made a bullseye with my pistol he walked off." Rolling his eyes, when his parrain simply grinned, d'Artagnan stood back up. "I can see you won't do anything until the inseparables have decided to take pity upon myself."

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off and go get yourself settled over at Constance's?" Joining the lad at the door, Jean-Armand slapped his filleul playfully upon d'Artagnan's rear. Something he used to do when the boy was a mere petit.

"Haven't you done that enough to me while I was growing up?" Halfway out the door d'Artagnan's thoughts took him back to those lighthearted days when he had been coddled by his parrains. He remembered maman clearly becoming jealous of all the time d'Artagnan spent with them. Making up for it, he could always be found doing chores for her and helping in the kitchen. D'Artagnan was actually not a bad cook, thanks to her.

"Child, you are never too old for me to do so." A sly grin crossed Jean-Armand's craggily face. "You have been warned." Closing the door upon the lad's snort, he went back to work.

++++

_Garrison canteen_

Having finished with the recruits, Aramis had a hard time finding Porthos' whereabouts. Questioning several of his brethren, he discovered that his friend was over at the canteen. When he got there, Aramis couldn't understand why Porthos' head had disappeared into Serge's oven. Clearing his throat more than once, he gained Serge's attention. "Pray tell what is going on? Usually Porthos is the one feeding his face in here not poking about in your oven."

"I'm having trouble with it and since Porthos was around I've got him looking into why it won't fire up." Going back to preparing the dough for the following morn's fresh baguettes he was going to serve, Serge wasn't in the mood for anymore chit chat.

"Porthos?" Standing beside his brother, Aramis got a good view of Porthos' rear that was sticking up in the air. Not a pretty site most of the time but it certainly was a temptation not to give the larger man a swift kick there since it made a nice wide target.

"I know you're standin' there, Mis. If'n ya gonna kick me I'd think twice about it if'n I was ya."

His hands spreading out to the sides, Aramis said, "Tres Bien. Seems Like I can never have any fun." Tilting his head to one side, he observed Porthos tinkering with the oven. When his friend appeared finished, Aramis was curious. "How did you find yourself in this situation?"

Glaring at the marksman, Porthos shouldered Aramis out of his way. "'Ave ya ever been too nice and ended up in a situation that could've been avoided if you'd been a total asshole?"

Amused, Aramis still didn't understand how that explained why Porthos was trying to fix an oven. Something of which he thought would have been beyond Porthos' usual expertise.

Sighing, Porthos pushed his brother out the door while telling Serge, as he passed by, that the oven should work now. Once they were clear of the canteen, Porthos adjusted his doublet. "I walked in. Serge was shoutin' and cussin' up a storm scarin' his workers. 'E turned ta me and asked me for 'elp." Throwing his hands up in the air, Porthos swore under his breath. "Unless I acted a perfect ass I couldn't refuse."

Patting his brother's back, Aramis' eyes danced. "I think it's more the fact that you didn't want an empty belly at breakfast if Serge couldn't get that oven working."

His own dark eyes shone with amusement at Aramis' remark. "There's that too."

++++

_Bonacieux Residence_

Stepping into the house, the first thing that hit d'Artagnan were the heavenly smells coming from the kitchen area. It made him homesick for maman and her own cooking. Slowly making his way toward the kitchen d'Artagnan then casually leaned against the wall to observe Madame Bonacieux merrily humming to herself. She was taking something out of the oven that made his nostrils twitch. Whatever she had baked certainly began to make his mouth water.

When Constance went to place the pan of freshly baked brioches upon the table, she felt eyes upon her. Thinking Jacques had come home early for a change, Constance brightened. But when turning around to encounter their newest boarder, she was surprised. "Bonjour, d'Artagnan."

"Bonjour, Madame Bonacieux." Dipping his head slightly in acknowledgement, d'Artagnan gave her a hesitant smile. He hadn't meant to interrupt her work.

"We're not that formal around here." Placing the hot brioches in a bowl, Constance set it upon the center of the table. "Constance would do and what is your first name?"

"Charles, but I prefer d'Artagnan instead."

Catching an odd look upon the boy's face, Constance became curious. "Is everything fine with your room. I freshened it up and there are clean sheets upon your bed."

"Nothing's wrong. I was simply missing my home." Further explaining, d'Artagnan could tell that Constance sympathized with him. "I'm used to helping maman in the kitchen and when I came inside and smelled the aroma of something baking I instantly thought of her."

"Perhaps if I ever find myself running behind with too much to do I'll put you to work in here then." Her blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "I'm sure Jacques would be amazed to find you cooking in our kitchen."

"Does my room and board include meals or should I go to one of the local taverns or inns to eat? I forgot to ask earlier."

"Oui it does. That is if you're around the place when I serve it." Pushing some hair out of her eyes, she pointed to a chair. "Sit. The roast I've prepared is done and only needs to be carved."

"Allow me to do it." While d'Artagnan expertly began cutting the roast, Jacques walked entered the room.

"Since when do you make our tenants work in the kitchen, ma chere?" Slightly amused to watch the boy helping out, Jacques pulled out a chair to sit down. When Constance filled an empty glass with wine and gave it to him, he sat back to take a sip.

"D'Artagnan kindly offered to help. He misses his home and the lad used to do this for his mother," offered Constance.

Winking at the youngster, Jacques gave him a kindly warning. "Careful my wife doesn't end up shoving a broom into your hands next."

"I don't mind hard work, sir. Remember I helped my parents with our farm." Tasting the roast, d'Artagnan couldn't help but compare Constance's cooking against maman's. He couldn't fault it. Everything was delicious.

"Just call me Jacques, d'Artagnan. That'll be fine with me." Beginning to relax, after the stresses of the day, Jacques nodded his thanks to Constance for the drink. "I love the feeling you get when someone cancels plans that you didn't want to have in the first place." Plucking a brioche from the bowl, Jacques bit into it. Closing his eyes while enjoying its taste, he polished it off quickly.

"Did Monsieur Lemarchal not purchase the bolts of fabric he ordered from us?" Sitting down herself now, Constance slapped her husband's hand when he reached for another brioche. "Save some for the rest of us," she teasingly told him.

"We were to meet at his office but when I arrived there Monsieur Lemarchal wasn't there. His secretary told me he had to cancel. Some family emergency came up from what I gathered." When Constance passed him the platter, containing the roast, Jacques hadn't realized how hungry he had been until now. "Anyway, I really wasn't in the mood to haggle over prices with the man today."

"I thought Monsieur had agreed to the amount you quoted him." Dishing out some salad onto her plate, Constance bit her lip. They needed that extra money, as things had been tight lately.

"Not exactly. He wanted to see the material first." Rubbing his brow, Jacques frowned. He had thought he had mentioned that part to Constance. Perhaps he had forgotten. Deciding his stomach needed filled, more than worrying about having made a deal with Lemarchal, Jacques relished the flavor of the roast. "So, d'Artagnan, how did your time at the Garrison go today?"

D'Artagnan told them both what his parrain had in mind for his training. He was surprised how upset the couple appeared, when he explained about the unit he was currently involved with. Wanting to let them in upon his secret, since they were being so kind to him, d'Artagnan decided it was prudent not to say anything yet. Especially since he didn't know either of them that well.

"I don't understand why the captain needs to trick the inseparables in that manner." Jacques stabbed his fork into the meat, as if it were the enemy.

Observing Constance attacking her roast in like manner, d'Artagnan's lips curled upward. Perhaps they thought they were attacking the captain. It nearly made him laugh but he dared not, lest he give the game away. "Captain Treville wants them to think tis their idea to take on a fourth member. After all it's always only been just the three of them from what I've understood."

"With you living under our roof," waving his fork in the air, Jacques swallowed his food, "Constance and I are going to feel responsible for your welfare. After all you're rather young to be upon your own in Paris."

Stunned, d'Artagnan hadn't expected the couple to feel that way about him. Once again guilt filled him for withholding the truth from them. Still, a warmth spread through d'Artagnan that they wanted to watch over him in place of his own parents. "Merci for your kindness to a stranger." Ducking his head shyly, d'Artagnan's emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

"Have you ever tasted a roast so tender and juicy, d'Artagnan?" Not letting the young Gascon speak, Jacques continued to boast. "Constance is a wonderful cook." Always pleased over his wife's culinary talents, Jacques overlooked his wife's amused expression.

"I could share some of maman's recipes with Constance." Smiling at her pleased face, d'Artagnan added, "Sometimes we would shove papa out of the kitchen just so he wouldn't be underfoot as we cooked together."

Jacque's shoulders shook with laughter that began bubbling out of him. "I'm going to like having you around, young man." Raising his glass of wine in the air, he toasted to the boy.

++++

_Notes:_

_Noël_ \- Christmas  
_Poignard_ \- dagger  
_Parrain_ \- godfather  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Oncle_ \- uncle  
_Famille_ \- family  
_Tres bien_ \- very well

 _Baguettes_ \- Narrow loaves of bread with crisp crusts.  
_Brioches_ \- sweet yeast buns

 _Quote: "I clapped because it's finished, not because I like it."_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.

 _Quote: "Have you ever been too nice and ended up in a situation that could've been avoided if you'd been a total asshole?"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I love making people who already hate me, hate me even more."_ from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I love the feeling ou get when someone cancels plans that you didn't want to have in the first place."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, early eve – Garrison stables_

Strolling past the stables, upon his way to his own apartments, Aramis heard the sound of someone speaking. It couldn’t have been one of the stable lads for they would all be home by now. His footfalls now nearly non-existent, Aramis slipped inside.

Brushing down Zad, d’Artagnan murmured soothing words to his horse knowing that it was more therapeutic for himself than his mount. It had only been one day… one day and yet he was already dreading the coming lessons Marcel, and his unit, would try to teach him upon the morrow. “Perhaps they'll improve with time.” Sighing, he kept running the brush down Zad’s long, full mane.

“If you really believe that I'll sell you Pont Notre-Dame."

He had thought himself alone, his words the only one echoing throughout the stables. Startled, he dropped the brush he was using. Whipping around, drawing out his poignard from his belt, the tension within him melted upon the sight of the contrite looking Musketeer. The latter holding up both hands in mock surrender.

“Didn’t mean to give you a fright.” Casually leaning against the back of a stall, Aramis lips curled upward.

“You make a habit of being sneaky?” A smile pulling upon his own lips, d’Artagnan turned back to the task at hand.

“One might say that I’ve had reason to be from time to time,” replied Aramis, tongue very much firmly in cheek. Thinking upon the numerous occasions he’d entered a paramour’s abode, along with the many times Aramis had to beat a hasty retreat from said abode, oui it had called for stealth upon his part. So the boy had been correct in his assessment up to a point.

Listening to the youngster’s long, drawn out sigh, Aramis felt for the lad. “You were unhappy with the beginning of your training… and still are if I’d had to guess.”

‘I don’t mean to belittle your brothers-in-arms, Aramis, but I do hope the majority of them make a better show of it than what I was introduced to.” Even though his parrain had told them Marcel and his men were the exception to the rule, d’Artagnan started to have serious doubts about that. When Zad’s long tail swished out to hit him in the arm d’Artagnan automatically apologized to the animal, realizing he had tugged hard one too many times upon the horse’s mane.

“Oh Marcel’s bunch are all right,” admitted Aramis, fingers crossed behind his back. “Not as seasoned as some of us and not the best at training raw recruits.” His keen eyes rested intently upon the young Gascon. “I don’t believe the term _raw_ however should be applied to you, d’Artagnan.”

Mimicking the older Musketeer’s stance, d’Artagnan casually leaned against Zad’s stall. Occasionally tossing and catching the brush he held up in the air, d’Artagnan stared back. “I’m not sure what you’re going on about.”

Waving a finger at the boy, Aramis grinned. “I know what tis like to have secrets. I’m sure you must have a few yourself.”

“Your reasons being?”

“For an _obscure_ lad from Lupiac in Gascony you’ve shown remarkable skill.” Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Aramis continued to watch d’Artagnan’s face to see if the younger man had any tells that would give him a clue if his words had hit their mark. However Aramis had been a tad perplexed, when all that appeared across the pup’s features was an ever broadening smirk aimed back at him.

“ _Secrets_ , Aramis… you said it not I.”

“I’m going to enjoy unraveling the mystery surrounding you, pup.” About to leave, Aramis snapped his fingers. “By the way, how did it go with Captain Treville?”

“Saw that, did you?” Chuckling, d’Artagnan folded his arms and crossed his long legs, still relaxing against the hard wood of Zad’s stall. “The captain wouldn’t re-assign me if that's what you're hinting at.”

“Don’t despair, lad. You never know what the future may hold.” Cheerfully having said his piece, Aramis tipped his chapeau at the boy, waved and departed.

Glancing at Zad, d’Artagnan lightly patted the horse’s rump a few times which elicited a few snorts from the animal. “That sounded promising. What do you think?” The swishing back and forth of Zad’s long tail was the only indication that his horse had even been listening.

++++

_Next day, early morn – Palais-Cardinal_

“I thought you had intended for d’Artagnan to train with your three finest.” Armand knew that his friend was a keen judge of the men under his command and of their prowess with weapons and the like. So when he had sent Jean-Armand a note asking over his filleul’s acceptance with those inseparables, Armand thought his friend had been jesting.

“Athos… Porthos… and Aramis have been a team of three for a number of years,” pointed out Jean-Armand. “Fobbing off the boy upon them wouldn’t have done. They have to come to me believing it was their idea to take d’Artagnan on.”

"Mmmmm." Humming softly, Armand nodded his head in agreement. "Out of the three of us you always did excel at plotting out strategies."

"After yesterday's poor performance I dare say it won't be long before my men accept d'Artagnan with open arms." Laughing, Jean-Armand sat upon the edge of the desk pushing around a sheaf of papers.

"Do stop that!" Scowling, Armand sent the other man a dark look that threatened dire consequences if Jean-Armand didn't obey him. "I just sorted those out."

"Apologies."

"Then why don't you appear apologetic in my eyes, eh?" Amused, Armand observed his friend continue to play with objects that were sitting innocently upon his desk. "Since today's a new day why don't you go bother your Musketeers instead of me? Some of us have work to do."

"I thought to explain myself to you in person instead of a simple missive between us." Easing off the desk, Jean-Armand grabbed his chapeau from the chair and threw a wink at Armand before departing.

++++

_Garrison_

When Treville arrived back, he handed off his horse to one of the stable lads. Walking back to his office, the unmistakable sound of his lieutenant's voice reached his ears. Halting his progress back to his office, Treville headed instead to the training area to see what was going on.

++++

"I am not sarcastic. I am just intelligent beyond your understanding." Standing with one hand on d'Artagnan's arm and the other pushing against Marcel's chest, Athos felt frustration carrying him away. "What you were trying to show the child was entirely wrong. My advice was sound and you know it, Marcel!" His patience had snapped, when Athos had watched the other Musketeer try and fail to produce the results that were expected. If anything d’Artagnan was once again showing the soldier up and doing it the lad’s way, not quite in Musketeer fashion but doable.

Marcel didn't need it stamped upon his forehead. He had known Athos was giving him good advice. After all the older man was considered one of the finest swordsmen in all of France. What had always impressed him about Athos was the fact that the lieutenant never rubbed other people's noses in it whenever he tried to teach swordsmanship. Lording it over his opponents wasn't something Athos did. So why did Marcel feel like throwing a fit? _Merde!_ The man was right. "I'm sorry, lad. Athos would be better at showing you that particular series of movements than myself."

++++

Off to the side, amongst the other men that had been watching, Porthos and Aramis had been placing bets with one another if d’Artagnan would or would not beat Marcel to the ground.

“Does anybody else ‘ave a voice in their ‘ead that repeats… ‘Slap the idiot, slap the idiot?’” A sideways glance at his brother showed Porthos that his words had brought about an amused glint in Aramis’ dark eyes. “Non? Just me, eh?” Scratching the back of his head, Porthos grinned. “Hmmm…Odd that.”

Slapping the larger man on the back, Aramis chuckled. “You really need to mend those fences with Marcel, mon ami.”

“’Ell would freeze over first,” grunted Porthos.

“Ah, but remember, Porthos, we guard one another’s back when out in the field.” Studying the giant beside him, Aramis thought twas a good thing the captain hadn’t gotten wind of how things were between the two men. “What would happen if Marcel was assigned with you feeling like he does?”

“I’d expect ‘im ta act like a Musketeer is what.” Thinking about what the marksman had said made good sense. “ _Merde!_ I guess I could offer ta buy ‘im a drink at The Wren.”

“Now you’re thinking, mon frere.” Sometimes Porthos just needed a slight push in the right direction. Bien, that's what Aramis was around for.

++++

Noting the unasked questions fairly shouting to come out of the lad’s mouth, Athos smirked. “I have got a mind of my own and I am not opposed to giving people a piece of it now and then.”

After Marcel had trudged off, d'Artagnan turned an inquisitive face toward Athos. Listening to the Musketeer’s words, he couldn’t argue the fact that someone had needed to step in before d’Artagnan’s lessons became a sideshow. "Am I supposed to go follow him or stay here with you?" It had been unexpected, but a delight to him, when the older Musketeer had stepped in to offer his advice.

“Which would you prefer?” Allowing himself the briefest of smiles, Athos did so at the boy’s eyes lit up with pleasure.

"If you care to show me I would be honored then." Dipping his head shyly, d'Artagnan stepped back and resumed his stance. " _En garde!_ " Dancing around each other, he felt exhilarated beyond belief. This is what it had felt like back on the farm when d'Artagnan had been a mere petit, learning from papa and his parrains the art of swordplay.

Deftly moving out of the way of Athos' next strike against him, d'Artagnan noted surprise enter the older man's eyes. Good. If there was anything he excelled at it was making his opponents feel off-balance because they always underestimated d’Artagnan because of his youth.

"You are a sly one, child." They had been at this now for over fifteen minutes and had gained an appreciative audience. Athos, for his part, never felt more alive than when pitted against someone equally skilled. This boy had real talent for the blade. The lad's sword fairly sang in d'Artagnan's hand. If Athos worked with him, he could mold him into one of the finest Musketeers this regiment had ever seen.

Steel met steel, as both men brushed up close to one another, their swords crossing high in the air above them. Breaking apart, both back-pedaled a few steps to catch their breath. Breathing hard, it wasn’t until Captain Treville made an appearance that their swordplay came to an end. However, the applause that came afterward made both d’Artagnan and Athos amused, turning around to bow to their audience.

Crossing his arms, Treville stared hard at Athos. “I wasn’t aware that I put our young Gascon into your care.”

Clearing his throat a few times, Athos said, “I could not stand there and watch the boy taught wrongly.”

Eyes darting back and forth between his lieutenant and his filleul, Treville cocked his head to one side. “Athos, tis out of my hands since I’ve given the lad over to Marcel.”

“The pup shows great promise but I fear what Marcel and his men would teach him would not be enough,” bit out Athos, trying to hold back what he truly wanted to say. His blue eyes caught sight of Porthos and Aramis nodding their heads at him, silently giving him their permission for what they all wanted to happen. “I believe d’Artagnan would be better trained with the three of us.”

“By _three_ I presume you to mean Aramis and Porthos too?” Enjoying stretching this scene out for all twas worth, Treville glanced at d’Artagnan who was practically humming with unspent energy that only the young could achieve.

Head snapping up, Athos nearly glared at the older officer. "Of course, sir."

Turning his back on the men, Treville waved a hand in the air. "I'll have to think about it." What the others couldn't see was the wide smile gracing his face, as he took the steps up to his office.

With the captain's departure, the inseparables formed a circle around the young Gascon.

Starting to get that hemmed in feeling, d'Artagnan tried not to show that it bothered him.

"What say ya, lad, if'n the captin' let's us train ya?" Sizing the whelp up, Porthos still liked what he saw. "No one's showed ya hand-ta-hand yet. That's one of my specialties."

" _If_ Captain Treville does re-assign me to your unit I would be more than pleased." Truthful in his response, d'Artagnan tried very hard not to show amusement. The great inseparables hadn't even realized that they were being played by a master. "I only wanted to become the best Musketeer I could be and do my parents and my king proud." When Athos stepped into his view, the other man placed a firm hand upon d'Artagnan's shoulder.

"The past is your lesson, d'Artagnan. The present is your gift. The future is your motivation." Patting the lad's shoulder lightly, Athos then stepped away. "Do not fret, child. You will do."

"Inspirational words to live by, Athos." Running a hand through his unruly curls, Aramis replaced his chapeau. "Didn't know you had it in you." Receiving a hard look from his brother, Aramis decided silence was the better part of valor.

"I wonder how long we gotta wait." Along with his friends, and the kid, Porthos stared up toward the captain's balcony.

++++

_Notes:_

_Parrain_ – godfather  
_Filleul_ \- godson

The Pont Notre-Dame is a bridge that crosses the Seine in Paris, France linking the quai de Gesvres on the Rive Droite with the quai de la Corse on the Île de la Cité.

 _Quote: "I'm not sarcastic. I'm just intelligent beyond your understanding."_ from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.

 _Quote: “Does anybody else have a voice in their head that repeats, ‘Slap the idiot, slap the idiot?’ No? Just me? Hmm…Odd.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: “I’ve got a mind of my own and I’m not opposed to giving people a piece of it now and then.”_ – from Maxine.

 _Quote: "The past is your lesson. The present is your gift. The future is your motivation."_ \- from an inspirational quote site.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spirkislife wanted some hurt d'Art. Hopefully, though he's new to the regiment, the comfort will be forthcoming that she wanted to see.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day – Garrison_

It wasn’t until after the noon hour that Treville came out of his office heading for the courtyard where the inseparables were. Slowly approaching the bench, where his men usually sat, he stood in front of them. “I’ve made a decision regarding young d’Artagnan.” As he thought, all three of them perked up. ‘I’ll be informing Marcel shortly that the lad’s training will be handled by all of you.”

“Best decision ya could ‘ave made,” piped up Porthos. Then when the usual tick appeared near the captain’s right eye, whenever the officer became agitated, Porthos tacked on the appropriate – “Sir.”

Brushing off the interruption, as if it had been a tiny insect buzzing about, Treville pressed on. “I’ll then inform the boy of the change in units.” Noting Aramis smiling his approval, Treville’s lips pursed. “Do not get cocky over my change of heart in this matter.” When the smile quickly slipped from the marksman’s face, he knew his point had been made. “In many respects that youngster could show all of you a thing or two.”

“So d’Artagnan is not such a mystery to you as he is to the rest of the regiment?” Still not able to put his finger upon it, Athos could not shake the feeling there was something of import being kept from all of them in regards to this young Gascon.

“You could say that, Athos,” which was all Treville was going to offer his lieutenant at this time. “D’Artagnan’s training with you three will officially begin upon the morrow.” Leaving them, he went in search of Marcel. Then Treville would send off a quick letter informing Armand what’s transpired. His old friend would be greatly pleased at this news.

Rubbing his chin, Porthos' glance flickered between Aramis and Athos. Then with a shake of his head, he said, “Felt kinda easy didn’t it?”

“Mmmm,” pleasantly hummed Aramis, with a sideways look at Athos’ set face. Tapping his brother’s arm he tilted his head to one side, studying the older man. “You’ve gotten your chance to teach the pup so why the pensive expression, mon ami?”

“According to Treville,” snorted Athos, “d’Artagnan may end up showing us how to do our own jobs.”

“The lad has surprising skills for one of his age,” mused Aramis.

“And for ‘avin’ been raised as a farmer,” added Porthos, reminding them all of the whelp’s humble background.

“Speaking of our Gascon,” looking about the courtyard, Athos had not seen any sign of the child, “where did he go? It shouldn't have taken that long to speak with Marcel.”

++++

_Earlier_

After his successful sparring match with Athos, d’Artagnan knew that the inseparables were now waiting upon their captain’s decision. So, in the meanwhile, d’Artagnan had given them the flimsiest of excuses. Saying that he needed to find Marcel to make sure there weren’t any hurt feelings. In reality what d’Artagnan had done was wait until the inseparables had moved off. Then he was able to make his way back up to his parrain’s office.

Twas there that d’Artagnan had been informed that his parrain was going to let the inseparables stew for a time before letting them know d’Artagnan would be working within their unit. Then being given a missive d’Artagnan perused its contents. Surprised, to say the least, that it had come from the Royal Palace he opened the royal seal. Upon reading it, he glanced over at the older man and laughed. “The king’s already requesting my presence.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jean-Armand sighed. “I shall have to rein in Louis’ enthusiasm for your company or else you’ll never get your training even started.”

“Shall I go right away, Oncle?”

“While your fate’s dangling up in the air, insofar as my inseparables believe, then oui.” Waving a hand at his filleul to leave, Jean-Arman smiled. “Do not keep Louis waiting.” But before the lad could disappear, he snapped his fingers to gain the boy’s attention. “Remember to use one of those passages I showed you earlier.”

Grinning, d’Artagnan dipped his head. “I’m eager to learn all of them the longer I’m here.”

When his filleul left, Jean-Armand's fingers unconsciously began tapping the top of his mahogany desk. Reaching out to sort through several missives delivered to him earlier, he figured the inseparables could wait a bit longer for his decision.

++++

_Present - The Royal Palace, King Louis' chambers_

"Ah, d'Artagnan!" cried King Louis joyfully, as if greeting a long lost friend. "I see my message reached you."

"It did, Sire." Bowing slightly in respect, d'Artagnan gave the young monarch a curious glance.

"I'm tired of being surrounded by people who think my brain's the size of a pea and that I need to be led by the nose." Snorting his displeasure, King Louis closely watched the Gascon youth.

Not quite sure how to respond to such a declaration, d'Artagnan kept his own council.

Waving the lad over to seat himself upon the sofa, King Louis strolled over to one of the windows pulling the drapes aside to let some sunlight filter into the room. "In other words you're going to be a breath of fresh air in my court."

"If you believe so, Your Majesty." Startled when the young king began laughing, d'Artagnan was confused and it must have showed upon his expressive face for King Louis' amusement didn't abate.

"I like to think I'm unpredictable." Holding up a finger, King Louis' dark eyes danced merrily. "So today you and I are going to both be so."

Scratching the beginnings of some chin hair d'Artagnan had been struggling to grow, he stared questionably at the king.

Coming up to stand nearer to the boy King Louis grinned, showing off a huge amount of pearl white teeth. "That secret passage you just came through, d'Artagnan," bending close enough to whisper in the lad's ear he said, "we're going to take it together and leave the palace."

Eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, d'Artagnan thought at first he had heard wrongly. Realizing that His Majesty had been serious, he tried to point out a pertinent fact. "You can't go outside without proper escort," he hissed, forgetting for a moment whom he was speaking to.

"I've done it many times before but this time thought to make you my partner in crime." Crooking his finger at the youngster, King Louis led the way back through the secret passage.

As for d'Artagnan's feelings they were all over the place. If his parrains ever discovered King Louis' subterfuge, they were going to have heart attacks. Feet feeling heavy as lead weights, he instinctively followed behind his king.

++++

They came out of the tunnel into the bright light of day. The only sound to be heard came from d'Artagnan's horse that patiently waited for its master, from underneath the shade of a tree. "I've only come with Zad, Your Majesty."

With a finger pressed against his lips, a sly grin transformed King Louis' face. Making sure the boy followed him, he kept glancing back over his shoulder.

"Where are we going?" This really wasn't the way d'Artagnan thought the rest of his day was going to end up.

"I maintain a smaller stable nearby that doesn't house more than a few mounts. I pay to have it and the few horses here cared for." Quietly King Louis continued to lead the way.

Closing his eyes briefly, against the disbelief filling him upon His Majesty's words, d'Artagnan opened them up again to spy the stable the king referred to. It wasn't really all that far from where he had left Zad. So it had only been a short walk though it had felt like miles to him feeling the way he did over all of this. "Won't the caretaker worry upon discovering one of the horses missing when he checks on them later?"

"Non." Shaking his head, King Lous went to saddle his horse. "Allaird's used to my comings and goings." He realized that the lad was extremely worried about this venture but King Louis took it all in stride. "Go get your horse, d'Artagnan, and then we'll set off."

Doing as bid, d'Artagnan could only think that this day was going to end badly.

++++

_Back at the Royal Palace_

Knocking upon the king's door, Treville slapped his chapeau against his right leg while waiting to be told to go in. Still not a sound emerged from the chambers. Odd that because he had been informed that His Majesty was in residence. Deciding his time would prove more valuable elsewhere, Treville headed back the way he had come in. Nearly bumping into his old comrade, he apologized.

"Did you finish an audience with the king?" Armand needed to finalize a few items before the next council met. The papers he held in his hands still needed finalized by His Majesty.

"He didn't answer," was Jean-Armand's clipped response. "I'm assuming he's either resting or just doesn't want to be disturbed."

An odd hour of the day to be abed," mused Armand. "Perhaps we should linger here a bit longer and wait for King Louis to present himself."

"There's a chess board with our names upon it in the gaming room if you care to try your luck against me." Blue eyes twinkling, Jean-Armand chuckled as Armand pinned him with one of his intimidating stares. Bien it had never bothered Jean-Armand before, though it scared the hell out of everyone else that was subjected to it.

"What shall we play for, mon ami?" Anticipating lining his pockets with some of Jean-Armand's coin, Armand was looking forward to the match.

"The winner gets to speak with Louis first," offered Jean-Armand.

"Fine by me but that's an easy way out of losing your money to me." Following the other man into the gaming room, Armand ignored his friend's burst of laughter.

Perhaps it was a blessing that both older men were oblivious to the fate of their young king and filleul, as they began their game.

++++

_Elsewhere_

The further away they rode from the safety of the Louvre, d'Artagnan's stomach churned. "You said this is something that you do often, Sire?"

"My old fox and the cardinal may think they know my daily routine but I've carefully hidden this from them." Enjoying the wind rushing past him, as King Louis' horse kept up a steady pace, he was relishing his time of freedom.

"May I speak my mind, Your Majesty?"

Rolling his eyes, King Louis nodded his head. "If you really must?"

"Tis a dangerous game you play with your life." Lips tightening with concern, d'Artagnan kept a keen eye open for the possibility of trouble.

"Mon Dieu! Look at my attire! When you entered my room I was just about to leave dressed this way." His clothes were that of a commoner. King Louis always had an extra set hidden away where none of the maids would by chance come across them. "I'm not even wearing my wig." Pointing to his own head, King Louis chuckled. "No one's going to recognize me as the king of France. I guarantee it."

He had never appeared less like the monarch d'Artagnan had been introduced to than King Louis did now. A long drawn out breath escaped him, thinking over all of this. One hand tightened upon Zad's reins while the other rested rested near his sword, ready for action if needs must. "Sire..." cut off by the slash of the other man's hand in the air, d'Artagnan hesitated saying anything further.

"I've been doing this since I was barely sixteen years of age." Kneeing his mount in the sides to go faster, King Louis waved at the boy to keep up. "Not even Anne knows about my secret past-time."

If his parrains ever got wind of this, d'Artagnan was certain that King Louis' adventures would be seriously curtailed for the foreseeable future. Evidently if His Majesty didn't give a care for himself others would have to do it for the man. They had been riding now for well over an hour. With every mile placed between them, and the palace, d'Artagnan's fear for the young monarch's safety grew. "Sire, perhaps tis time to turn back."

"D'Artagnan... d'Artagnan," tsked King Louis. "Firstly, whenever tis just you and I, I insist you simply call me by my first name alone." The boy's jaw couldn't have dropped any further thought Louis. "Secondly..." he never got to voice his next words because it was then that shots rang out.

Their horses reared up, as soon as the report of the weapons rent the air. They were nearly unseated but managed to calm down their mounts.

 _"YOUR MAJESTY, RIDE FOR ALL YOU'RE WORTH BACK TO THE PALACE!"_ Shouting this order to the king, d'Artagnan didn't have to repeat it more than once. Hanging back, withdrawing a pistol from his belt, he managed to cut down two of the malandrins chasing them. There were more of the gang that he could see, off in the distance, but with his killing of these two d'Artagnan saw some of the maladrins stop following them. Noting one of them breaking away to chase him, d'Artagnan whispered to Zad to pick up speed.

Louis didn't want to leave the lad behind but there wasn't any other option left to him. The boy had been correct in saying that Louis needed to reach safety immediately. This had never happened to him, in all the years he had made his escapes from the palace. Torn between reaching the Louvre, or helping d'Artagnan, Louis realized which of the two goals held priority. Praying the young Gascon could take care of himself, he continued gaining ground.

++++

After the other maladrin caught up to him, d'Artagnan had no choice but to cross swords with his attacker. Doing so, while sitting upon one's horse, wasn't the most ideal way of dueling. Still d'Artagnan made the best of a bad situation. His blade managed to slice its way into the chest cavity of his attacker. This having been the first time that d'Artagnan had ever killed, counting the two other maladrins, he felt sick upon listening to the horrible sucking sound his weapon made as he withdrew it from the dead flesh.

When the maladrin limply fell from his own horse, d'Artagnan hadn't seen any signs of the others following him. Believing he had shaken the gang, twas in that moment d'Artagnan's guard relaxed. When he then  felt the impact of a musket ball punch him in the side, stunned though he was his thoughts weren't for himself. Instead, d'Artagnan tried thinking upon ways to apologize for the poor performance to his parrains. Vision beginning to gray out, d'Artagnan willed himself not to fall off Zad's back. The burning pain from his wound was probably the only thing keeping him awake and in the saddle.

Swaying dangerously upon his mount's back, d'Artagnan fingered the crucifix he always wore around his neck. It had been gifted to him from Oncle Armand and he had never taken it off. Not wanting to let his parrains down but fearing he still may lose consciousness, his last thoughts were of his parents.

++++

_Notes:_

_Parrain_ – godfather  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Maladrins_ \- brigands


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Royal Palace_

Forgetting all about using the secret passage, King Louis halted his horse directly in front of the palace doors. Guards at first hadn't recognized him, dressed as he was in common attire. With swords and pistols pointed at him, as he headed for the main entrance, King Louis stabbed them all with a sharp look. " _Stand down! Don't you recognize your king when you see him?_ "

Immediately recognition did indeed light their eyes, upon the distinct voice of their monarch. Taking a good look at the young king, they put away their weapons. One of the guards, still bewildered by the strange appearance of the royal, stepped forward. "Your Majesty, may I ask what has happened and why you are out here alone?"

Pushing the solider out of his way, King Louis rushed past the Red Guard. Once inside he barked out orders to a Musketeer that was already leaving the palace. " _Find Captain Treville and have him come see me immediately!_ " As the soldier raced off, King Louis headed for his own chambers.

++++

_Shortly after - King Louis' chambers_

Upon the urgent request of the king, Treville now found himself in His Majesty's rooms. Utterly astonished as to how the young monarch was dressed, he listened to what the king had to say... and then Treville hit the ceiling roaring out his fear. " _HOW COULD YOU HAVE BEEN SO CARELESS WITH YOUR LIFE!_ " Protocol flew out the window, as Treville blasted his anger at King Louis. Having practically raised the royal, upon the death of King Henry, Treville felt entitled to his anger.

"You can take all the time you like to scold me later. Just go find d'Artagnan." Running an agitated hand through his windswept hair, King Louis worried over the boy he had left behind. "Tis only because of that young man's bravery that I'm still alive."

"They were probably maladrins out for what they could get and you two just happened upon them," biting his words out Treville tried to calm himself down, though it was a hard thing to do. Spinning upon his heels, without a by your leave, he stormed out of the room.

++++

_Elsewhere..._

Zad, knowing the way back to the palace, kept up a good pace. Hanging on by a thread, d'Artagnan somehow managed to keep his seat. His left side burned like fire and he felt that the ball was still lodged there. Blinking away sweat that ran into his eyes, d'Artagnan thought he could see the Louvre coming into view. Either that or he was hallucinating which could have been a real possibility. Shaking his head, vision darkening once more, d'Artagnan's eyes began sliding shut. It was then that his body gave up its battle to keep him upright upon the saddle. Listing to the left he fell off Zad's back to lay unconscious upon the hardened ground.

++++

The palace still remained within sight, as Treville rounded the bend that would take him back to the Garrison. Cursing under his breath over what King Louis had done, not really paying attention to his surroundings, Treville nearly missed the riderless horse. Slowing his own mount down it was then that his eyes widened in recognition and dread. " _Zad!_ " Nearly jumping off his horse, he ran over to the animal. That was when the sounds of moaning reached his ears. Twisting around Treville noted his filleul's body lying motionless in the dirt. D'Artagnan was laying upon his side, evidently rendered senseless. Gently turning the boy to lay upon his back, Jean-Armand's hand came away wet with blood.

Examining the lad closely, Jean-Armand realized that d'Artagnan had sustained a wound to his left side. It appeared that the injury came from either a pistol or musket and the ball was still inside his filleul. It wasn't so much that the ball was still lodged there that worried him. It was the fact that d'Artagnan couldn't seem to breathe properly that raised alarm bells for Jean-Armand. The youngster was struggling for every breath he tried to take. Listening to the boy wheezing like an old man, Jean-Armand knew something else was seriously wrong. Knowing time was of the essence, somehow he managed to heave d'Artagnan's body upon the horse's back. Climbing up behind the boy, Jean-Armand's right arm clamped tightly around his filleul's waist. Racing back to the palace for help, he could only pray that the lad wasn't lost to them.

++++

_Royal Palace - outside one of the guest rooms_

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Richelieu wondered for the umpteenth time how this could have happened. Having been ordered to immediately present himself at the Louvre, he wasn't sure what to expect but it certainly hadn't been this. Oui, he understood that King Louis was solely responsible for what happened to d'Artagnan. That alone was bad enough. But Richelieu was left wondering for how many years had their young monarch been so reckless with his own life.

"You and I shall have words over this later, Sire. I'm too worried over the health of my filleul to do our talk justice." There had been not a peep out of King Louis, since Captain Treville had left, from what Richelieu had understood from the palace guards. He assumed, that with d'Artagnan's life hanging in the balance, His Majesty's conscience wasn't leaving him in peace. Richelieu noted the pale features of the young royal but couldn't find it within himself to care overmuch. With barely a glance in the king's direction, he stepped into d'Artagnan's room to observe the care the young Gascon was receiving.

++++

_Inside d'Artagnan's room_

The royal physician had been called to help the king's latest recruit. Janvier had Captain Treville holding the boy's legs down while his own assistant, Edmé, kept a firm hold of the lad's shoulders so d'Artagnan wouldn't buck up once Janvier began prodding around for the ball. Aside from that, he too could tell the young Gascon was straining for each breath he took. "Evidently the ball damaged the boy's lung which is why he's having breathing difficulties."

Going over to where he had laid his instruments Janvier then placed them inside the pan of boiled water. Noting the captain eyeing him with doubt, he explained about this procedure. "I have found that by using boiled water for my instruments that it helps to fight off infections in my patients." Shrugging, Janvier added, "Tis better this way." While digging for the ball, the boy tried to squirm out of the strong arms that held d'Artagnan down. Expected, but none the less irritating for Janvier, he continued to pry the foreign object out of the youngster.

Closing his eyes against the pain-filled screams of his filleul, Jean-Armand silently vowed to apprehend the criminals responsible for this. When the docteur had finally removed the offending ball, Jean-Armand released his grasp upon the lad's legs. Still though d'Artagnan was struggling to catch his breath. Glancing at the physician he barked, " _Can't you do something so the boy can breathe easier!"_

"Indeed I can," readily agreed Janvier. "There is fluid in his lung and I need to drain it." Glancing at the captain and Edmé again, he indicated for them to continue holding d'Artagnan's limbs steady. Making an incision Janvier then placed a bowl underneath the cut. Of course there was some blood but not much, as he made sure not to cut too deeply. Staring at his assistant, Janvier motioned for Edmé to take hold of the bowl and keep it under the incision. "I need to place a tube where I cut so that the fluid would all drain out." Once that was accomplished he patted Edmé's shoulder. "Do not move from that spot until all the liquid ceases."

Facing Captain Treville, Janvier slowly smiled. "Once the fluid's completely gone I can begin stitching d'Artagnan's wound. Hearing someone clearing their throat from behind him, he turned around and spotted Cardinal Richelieu leaning against the closed door. "Forgive me, Your Eminence. I had no idea you were there."

"I didn't want to disturb you, Docteur." Walking over to join the men, Armand's eyes rested upon his filleul. "His breathing is much easier now." Crossing himself, he murmured a quiet prayer of thanks for the boy's life.

"The lad should now make a speedy recovery." Going back over to a table where his medical supplies were, Janvier was making sure he had everything that was needed before mending the young man's injury. Knowing that both the cardinal and the officer were still worried, Janvier offered, "Be glad it could have been much worse than this."

Wincing, as Armand bumped shoulders with his old friend, he muttered, "Surely this was bad enough."

Brushing fingers through his rapidly thinning hair, Jean-Armand's lips pursed. "Depending upon the entry of the ball it could have damaged other vital organs not so easily fixed."

"I wouldn't consider it _easy_ what our filleul has just gone through," countered Armand, with a bitter twist to his lips.

"Can you believe Louis was so careless with his own life to do this?" Treville still was in shock over the entire debacle.

"I assume that you and I are going to have to triple the guard upon the king after this travesty." Thinking about what could have happened, Armand shuddered.

"This may have curbed Louis' enthusiastic taste for freedom he had wanted." Thinking that the lesson learned here for the young monarch could have resulted in d'Artagnan's life, Jean-Armand didn't trust himself upon taking King Louis to task over this. He might end up saying things that couldn't be taken back.

"D'Artagnan's going to hate being incapacitated for any length of time despite Docteur Janvier's prediction of a speedy recovery." Stroking his mustache, Armand's eyes never left the unconscious boy. "What are you going to tell the inseparables?"

"Lord I haven't even thought of them during all of this." Running a hand down his tired face, Jean-Armand shook his head sadly. "I'll have to come up with a story that's truthful in part. That the king's taken a liking to young d'Artagnan. Then today His Majesty took it into his head to go for a secretive jaunt without any guards along for protection, just taking the boy along with him." He was sure that the youngster must have protested against such an action. But knowing Louis, Jean-Armand figured his filleul couldn't sway the man.

"Then you'll explain how the lad got injured." Spreading out his hands, Armand sighed. "Tis the only thing you could do under the circumstances. It doesn't give away our relationship to the lad."

"Athos is going to be highly upset I imagine once I explain all of this." Not looking forward to his lieutenant's reaction Jean-Armand shook his thoughts off, concentrating upon his filleul. "I'll have to inform the Bonacieuxs about d'Artagnan and when tis safe for the boy to be moved I'll personally take him home.

"Until our boy regains his senses why don't you and I have that talk with the king? Even though I'm not looking forward to it nor do I assume you are either it needs to be done." With a last look over at d'Artagnan, Armand left the room with his friend right behind him.

++++

_King Louis' chambers_

He couldn't say he was surprised. King Louis had known they'd both be coming to see him, as soon as the young Gascon's surgery was over. "Before getting it off your chests how's d'Artagnan?"

"The surgery went well," offered Treville. "The ball had damaged the boy's lung and the docteur had to put a tube in the lad's side to drain the fluid."

"But my young friend is going to be all right, oui?" Glancing over at Cardinal Richelieu's tense face, King Louis wasn't all that certain.

"According to Janvier the boy should make a speedy recovery." Keeping a tight rein upon his emotions, Richelieu willed himself not to lose his temper.

"I'm relieved for d'Artagnan's sake," admitted King Louis. Waiting impatiently for one of them to ream him a new one, he began tapping a foot. "I'm waiting to be suitably chastised, gentlemen."

Exchanging a brief look with one another, Richelieu motioned for Treville to start first.

"If you were a much younger lad," growled Treville, "you'd be over my knees so fast it would make your head spin." His hands balled into fists, clenching and unclenching with pent up anger. "Count your lucky stars that I can't do so any longer."

"By the grace of God," crossing himself, Richelieu stabbed King Louis with an irritated look, "our filleul pulled through though the lad's still unconscious." A disappointed look crossed Richelieu's face as he stared at His Majesty. "I thought you had more sense than this, Sire."

"We're going to seal that particular passageway shut so that you can't ever use it again," snapped Treville. "And," stabbing his finger in the air continued, "from here on in your guards will be trippled so you can't consider doing such a hair-brained thing like this ever again."

Knowing he truly didn't have a leg to stand upon, King Louis realized there was nothing he could say in his defense. He had been wrong and risked not only his own life but that of their newest recruit whom King Louis was beginning to count as a friend. "Whatever you deem appropriate, Captain. I'll agree to any limits you set."

Treville's gaze rested upon the cardinal, waiting to see if the other man had further words for King Louis. With a shake of Richelieu's head toward him, Treville knew nothing more would be forthcoming from that quarter.

Both Cardinal Richelieu and Captain Treville bowed stiffly before His Majesty, then turned away to leave. They hoped their young monarch would use his time alone to consider the folly of his actions.

++++

_Later - The Bonacieux's residence_

Talking to herself, Constance was busy trying to remember what it was she had to do next. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind. "The biggest lie I tell myself is that I don't need to write that down... I'll remember it." Snorting softly, Constance continued roaming about her home still trying to figure out what she had forgotten to do.

Jacques, coming down the stairs, couldn't help but overhear his wife mumbling to herself. Glancing down at several bolts of new material he held in his arms, Jacques was pleased with his purchases. Not so much at the price he had to pay for them though. Thinking upon how much coin that's spent, and not entirely enough coming back into the household, Jacques grimaced. "Constance, is everything ridiculously expensive these days... or am I just ridiculously poor?"

Blowing an errant strand of hair out of her eyes, Constance glanced sideways at her husband. "I believe unless you're of noble birth the rest of us are _that_ poor." Earning a smile from Jacques she went over to him and gave him a brief kiss. "Does that make you feel any better."

"Mmmmm," a mischievous light entered Jacque's dark eyes, "Do it again and I'll let you know, ma chere."

Breaking away from him before all thoughts flew out of her head, Constance giggled. "You know, Jacques, if burglars broke into our house and searched for money I'd just laugh and search with them." Her husband's amused chuckles made Constance feel better. That was her aim. Everyone had money woes. They were just lucky enough to be able to rent out rooms to help supplement their income. The extra coin she earned sewing for the queen had been a Godsend to them as well. So in some respects they were better off than most.

Fingering the materials Jacques had purchased, Constance gave it her firm approval. "We shall be able to make fine attire for our clients. You chose well." About to help Jacques take everything into their sewing room, a knock upon the door interrupted her. When she answered it, Constance frowned upon finding Captain Treville standing there. "Captain." Dipping her head, she waited to hear what had brought him over.

"Tis d'Artagnan. He's been injured."

++++

_Notes:_

_Parrain_ \- godfather  
_Maladrin_ \- brigand  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Docteur_ \- doctor

Anyone familiar with Episode 7, A Marriage of Inconvenience, from the show will recognize the part I had taken when Lemay saved Treville's life. I just simply put d'Art into the picture instead.

 _Quote: "The biggest lie I tell myself is 'I don't need to write that down I'll remember it.'"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Is everything ridiculously expensive these days... or am I just ridiculously poor?"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "If burglars broke into my house and searched for money, I'd just laugh and search with them."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lateness of this chapter but since last Monday I've had the flu. I've missed a lot of work. I'm hoping to get back tomorrow but will have to see how I feel. Hacking up a lung pretty much zaps your energy and appetite, which has been pretty non-existent. Anyway finally felt a bit better to get this chapter finally up. Hope it's okay as I'm not sure if I made any glaring errors.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, early eve - Still at the Bonaceaux's residence_

"Captain Treville, do come in." Ushering the officer inside her home, Constance's brows knitted together as she closed the door behind the older man. "What has happened to our new boarder?"

Butting in before the captain could even explain anything to them, Jacques added his peace. "What type of injury did the boy sustain? The lad's newly arrived to the city. How in the world could D'Artagnan have already found trouble?"

Removing his chapeau, Treville then delved into a rather lengthy tale. Noting twin looks of shock etched upon the younger couple's faces, he began regretting being so thorough in his details. Perhaps there were certain aspects that Treville should have kept to himself, but he had always believed that Constance and Jacques could be trusted with the truth.

"But d'Artagnan will be all right?" questioned Constance, still uncertain over everything she'd heard. Squeezing Jacque's hand so hard it was a wonder her husband's bones didn't crack, she silently apologized with just one look.

"Oui and as soon as tis determined that the lad can be moved safely I'll personally see to it that d'Artagan's returned here." Placing his chapeau back where it belonged, Treville made his farewells. Now all he had to do was located his inseparables and inform them that the boy's training will have to be delayed. Treville wasn't looking forward to that discussion yet it had to be done.

++++

_Garrison Courtyard_

It was a warm night and lanterns cast a soft glow over the courtyard. Musketeers milled about the area. Some boisterously laughed over a a ribald jest one of the other men made, while others sat upon benches enjoying the fact that they were not out risking life and limb that eve.

This was where Treville surprisingly found the inseparables. "I would have thought you three would have been at The Wren." Eyeing each soldier in turn, he spoke first to Porthos. "Tis a wonder you're not trying to fleece some poor sod out of his hard-earned coin." Then Athos was next. "Tis not like you not to be out enjoying our wine." Saving Aramis for last, amusement crossed Treville's craggy face. "What? There isn't some lovely young thing out there whose window you should be gangling from?"

"One time it happened," sighed Aramis. "I'm never going to live that down."

"We 'avn't a coin ta spare between the three of us, Captin'," grunted Porthos, leaning over to nudge Aramis' shoulder with his own.

"Ah! That explains things then." Joining his lieutenant upon the bench, Treville sat down.

"Just out for a stroll, Sir." It wasn't unusual that the captain sometimes joined his men but Athos had a strong feeling this wasn't a casual jaunt.

Taking his chapeau off, and placing it upon his lap, Treville pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gents, I have some bad news. D'Artagnan's been hurt and I believe it will be several weeks before the lad's going to be able to begin his training."

"The kid's barely been 'ere long enough ta get 'urt!" exclaimed Porthos in surprise.

"How badly has the boy been injured?" Remembering their short sparring session together, and the smiling face of the young Gascon, Athos could not comprehend what could have befallen the lad in the short amount of time he had been amongst them. Sharing concerned looks with his friends, Athos listened to Treville's explanation. The more he heard, his blood began to boil upon the utter stupidity of King Louis.

"Whatever thoughts are going through your mind, Athos, hold your tongue," warned Treville. "Anything you say now could be misconstrued as treasonous."

Snapping his mouth shut, Athos settled for glaring at his commander instead. A strong hand upon his shoulder grounded him. Dipping his head in thanks toward Porthos, Athos took in a deep breath.

"If I had known I would have offered my assistance to the docteur." The poor pup probably wondered where all of them were. "Matter of fact I think I'll go now to see how the lad fares."

"Things are well in hand, Aramis. Janvier had an assistant with him and I helped as well." Noting the marksman's shock, Treville realized that the other man assumed d'Artagnan was in the Garrison's infirmary. "I found the boy myself not far from the palace's entrance so not wanting to waste precious time I took him back there." Getting to his feet, Treville gave a short nod to the three men. "Think I'll do last rounds about the Garrison before I turn in."

"Sir, with d'Artagnan still at the palace may we be able to visit the pup?" Solemn blue eyes met those of his captain, as Athos waited for a response.

"That shouldn't be a problem at all. But as soon as Janvier gives the word I shall see the lad settled back at the Bonaceauxs."

"We could do it for ya, Captin'," offered Porthos, glad to be able to do even that small thing for the whelp.

"Good." Knowing Porthos spoke for all three of them, Treville dipped his head. "My thanks, gents. Enjoy the rest of your eve."

After Treville left, the inseparables simply stared silently at one another. The first one to break the silence was Aramis.

"One has to wonder how long Louis' been doing this."

"Ta think none of us caught 'im sneakin' outta the Louvre." Shaking his head over what the young king had done, Porthos snorted his disgust.

"Musketeers and Red Guard alike give, or have given, their lives to protect Louis!" growled Athos. "And he had taken his own life into his hands by going out into the world all alone!" The force of his fist hitting the top of the table made the lantern sitting there tip over upon its side.

"If'n ya figure ta wring 'is neck," grined Porthos, "the line's probably been formin' already, windin' it's way outta the palace."

"I bet Cardinal Richelieu and Captain Treville already had words with the king." Humming quietly to himself, Aramis wished he could have been a fly upon the wall during that conversation.

"Perhaps Louis' guilty conscience is punishment enough since he has formed a special attachment to our young Gascon." Knowing all about carrying the burden of guilt, Athos felt perhaps that alone would prevent Louis from doing such a rash action in the future. "We shall visit the boy early in the morn before we begin our recruits training exercises."

Realizing how early that was going to be, Porthos gave himself a pep talk. Grumbling softly he told himself that he could do this. A firm shake of his shoulder had him gazing questioningly into Aramis' amused dark eyes.

"Sure tis okay to talk to yourself." Keeping his hand in place, Aramis squeezed his brother's shoulder gently. "Tis even okay to answer yourself..."

Hanging his head down, Porthos muttered, "I'm sure there's a _but_ in there somewhere." An affirmative nod from Aramis made Porthos roll his eyes.

"But when you start asking yourself to repeat what you just said," shrugging, Aramis' hand dropped from the large shoulder he had gripped, "you might have a problem."

"Get away with you, Mis." Standing up, Porthos towered over his friends. "Guess I 'av a date with my bed."

"Mon frere," eyes sliding toward Athos' silent figure still sitting upon the bench, Aramis waved his hand at him, "we could always reschedule the training for late morn."

"It would set us back too much and I would like to spend a bit of time with the lad before those lessons commence."

A smirk graced Aramis' features. Folding his arms, head tilted to one side, his eyes twinkled. "You know that amazing feeling when you get into bed and go straight to sleep, then wake up in the morn feeling fully refreshed and raring to go?" Chuckling upon the blank expression Athos gave him, Aramis waggled a finger in the air. "Yeah... me neither." When his older brother's lips began to curl upward, Aramis threw a companionable arm across Athos' shoulder. "Let us follow Porthos' example and ready ourselves for an early eve, mon ami."

++++

_Next day, very early in the morn - Royal Palace, d'Artagnan's room_

Feeling feather-light touches brushing hair out of his eyes, d'Artagnan blinked owlishly up at the figure hovering over him.

"Ah, sleeping beauty awakens." Smiling brightly, Aramis perched upon the edge of the boy's bed.

Porthos maneuvered one of the chairs close to the whelp's side. "Ya 'ad a lot of people mighty worried over you, kid."

His pain-filled eyes bounced from Aramis to Porthos and back up to Athos, who amazingly was still carding his fingers through d'Artagnan's hair. Licking dry lips, he croaked out, "Thirsty."

Immediately Athos reached for the pitcher of water that was upon a table. Pouring the lad a glass he waited for Aramis to help prop d'Artagnan up against the headboard before giving it to him.

Missing the feeling of Athos' fatherly touch, d'Artagnan's need for water overrode everything else. "Merci." Now fully awake, he felt achy all over. Not to mention the soreness that radiated from his injured side. "I guess I didn't die then." The loud guffaw from Porthos was unexpected and made d'Artagnan jerk his head to the side to observe the Musketeer. The movement had been a mistake for a headache soon blossomed between his eyes.

Sending his friend a stern look Athos frowned down at the pup, who had begun rubbing a finger back and forth across his forehead.

Silently Aramis had gotten up to find a cloth which he dipped in a basic of water. Gently he placed it upon the pup's forehead. Listening to d'Artagnan's sigh, Aramis was pleased to see it had helped.

"Child, the talk of your heroism has spread throughout the entire Garrison." Even though they had just met, Athos felt an instant kinship and responsibility for the Gascon. Almost as if the pup were a true sibling to him. Once long ago Athos had had a younger brother but had carelessly lost him. He didn't know if he could afford such feelings ever again.

"Yeah," snorted Porthos. "You're a bona fide hero, whelp."

"And _bona fide heroes_ ," winking at the youngster, Aramis laughed, "aren't allowed to die."

"The king?" Noting none of the Musketeers had said anything, d'Artagnan worried His Majesty had been hurt during the young monarch's escape.

"Be at ease, d'Artagnan," said Athos. "King Louis is fine." Not wanting to speak about His Majesty, for fear of what may come out of his mouth, Athos left it at that.

"His Majesty's currently poutin' over the extra guards assigned ta 'im by the captain'." Leaning over the pup, Porthos smiled. "And they've begun work sealin' up that secret tunnel 'e used." A grim line then formed around Porthos' mouth, just thinking about what that had led to.

Rubbing the side of his nose, Aramis allowed a slight smirk to play about his lips. "Wished some of my paramours had secret passages to come and go through." Shaking the silly thought out of his head, he sighed. "Life would be less complicated that way though."

Observing d'Artagnan's confused expression, Athos placed a gentle hand upon the boy's shoulder. "Never mind Aramis. None of us usually do."

"Hey! I'm sitting right here!" Pretending offense, Aramis huffed.

"Longer yer with us, whelp, you'll come ta know our ways." Pointing toward the marksman, Porthos grinned wickedly. "That one there's our resident Lothario."

"What about yourself, Porthos?" Raising an eyebrow at the older man, d'Artagnan watched a sly look come and go in the Musketeer's dark eyes.

"Love a good game of cards and," winking at the pup, Porthos patted the lad's arm, "a good brawl."

"Not necessarily in that order," tacked on Athos.

Discarding the cloth Aramis had given him, d'Artagnan focused upon the eldest of the trio. "If women are Aramis' vice... cards and fighting Porthos'," he tilted his head, studying Athos, "what are yours?" It was like watching a window slam shut into Athos' soul. A place where d'Artagnan would never be allowed to follow.

"Our brother finds respite in a good vintage of wine," offered Aramis.

"Alcohol... givin' ya some of the best times you'll never remember." A belly laugh escaped Porthos which had the effect of making Athos' lips twitch.

"There comes a time in every day when, no matter what the question, the only answer is wine." Tugging upon the pup's foot, Athos dipped his head. "Time has come for us to be earning our pay, child."

After the three soldiers had left him, d'Artagnan felt bereft. They seemed larger than life to someone like him and with their departure all the energy in the room had left with them.

++++

_Notes:_

_Docteur_ \- doctor

 _Quote: "Sure it's okay to talk to yourself. It's even okay to answer yourself. But when you start asking yourself to repeat what you just said, you might have a problem."_ -from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "You know that amazing feeling when you get into bed and go straight to sleep, then wake up in the morn feeling fully refreshed and raring to go? Yeah... me neither."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Alcohol... giving you some of the best times you'll never remember."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "There comes a time in every day when, no matter what the question, the only answer is wine."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Royal Palace – d’Artagnan’s room_

_About a few hours later after the inseparable’s had departed_

Striding into the room as if he owned it, and technically he did, Louis threw himself down upon the nearest chair by d’Artagnan’s bed. Drumming his fingers upon the armrests, he glanced sideways at the boy. Those dark Gascon orbs stared with amusement right back at at him. Slamming his hands down, again upon the armrests, he swore loudly. “ _Merde!_ I’m to be a prisoner in my own home!” Waiting for his new friend to speak up, Louis wasn’t left disappointed for long.

“I wasn’t in favor of our excursion to begin with.” A raised eyebrow toward Louis, indicated d’Artagnan’s feelings upon the matter. His wound wouldn't let him forget it either.

" _Deuce it all!_ ” Jumping up from the chair Louis began nervously pacing back and forth, hands clasped firmly behind him. “Am I never to have a life of my own?”

“You may live in a gilded cage, Louis,” wearily d’Artagnan waved a lazy hand in the air, “but think upon how your subjects live their day-to-day lives. You _do_ have a life only the rest of us could dream of compared to them.” Closing his eyes against a sudden pain in his side, d’Artagnan slowly opened them up. Louis' expression still hadn’t changed. The young monarch looked like a kicked puppy. “Just let your soldiers do their duty and keep your royal person from harm.”

At the foot of the young Gascon’s bed, Louis stared hard at the lad. Lines of pain around d’Artagnan’s eyes told him that whatever pain medication he had been given had worn off. Spinning away Louis poked his head out of the door and barked out orders to one of the pages that passed by. Turning back to the youngster, he frowned. “Why didn’t you inform anyone you were in pain?” Louis got his answer, just not from the source he had asked.

“Because that boy’s as stubborn as Alexandre!” Striding in, Armand had a good look at his filleul. He didn’t like what he saw. “I do hope, Sire, that you will take more care with young d’Artagnan than you have thus far?”

“ _Oncle, please!_ ” whined d’Artagnan, face turning beet red from embarrassment. “I’m here to learn to be a Musketeer. It shall be I who takes care of His Majesty when I earn my pauldron.”

Shrewd eyes narrowed as they landed upon his filleul. Holding up a finger, Armand snapped at the youngster. “Not until you’re fully trained. Skilled though you greatly are there are many things yet for you to learn before taking up the mantle of a Musketeer.” Pausing he thought to add something more, not only for the boy’s benefit but for the king’s. “And don’t do anything idiotic that Louis may ask of you in the future.”

Listening to this exchange, Louis began pouting again. “I thought you and my old fox already took a bite out of me.” His sour expression spoke volumes, after feeling the sting again of His Eminence’s tongue.

“Somehow I don’t’ believe it was a _big_ enough bite.” Stroking his mustache, Armand turned away from the young monarch. He realized that only his filleul had a clear view of his face and had probably noted the amusement in his eyes. “I just wanted to check on you again, d’Artagnan.”

“Again?” Not recalling his parrain being in his room earlier, d’Artagnan was a bit puzzled.

“Bien,” Armand shrugged casually, “you were unconscious at the time. Jean-Armand found you and brought you back here where the docteur performed surgery.”

“I don’t really remember any of that.” Everything had been a blur to d’Artagnan, when he had tried to get back to the palace.

“To tell you the truth I’d rather you didn’t,” testily countered Armand. “Anyway, Jean-Armand will be coming by later and if Janvier gives the all clear you’ll be able to go back to your own apartment.”

“Suppose I want the boy to stay here?” Louis cast his eyes upon the young Gascon then shifted back over to the cardinal.

“Unless he was gravely ill you’d be casting suspicion upon him. D’Artagnan cannot stay here indefinitely, Sire.” Waving a regal hand in the air, Armand stabbed the monarch with a foul look. “Now enough of this nonsense as I have other matters to attend!”

Realizing his parrain was rather pissed off at Louis, averting his head d’Artagnan hid his amusement behind a hand pretending to cough instead.

With a long, dark look in Louis’ direction, Armand bent over the boy to squeeze d’Artagnan’s shoulder. “I've known Louis a long time. Don’t let him bully you into anything,” he whispered in the lad’s ear before departing.

When the door closed behind Cardinal Richelieu, Louis stared in d’Artagnan’s direction once more. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me what he’d just said to you?” The negative shake of the Gascon’s head made Louis’ lips tighten fractionally. “Then I guess I should send for my physician to see if you’ll be well enough to go back to your own place. I'll also go check on what's taking so long with your draught.”

“I know it displeases you, Louis, but all of us agreed we’d have to be discreet. Otherwise my relationship to mes parrains would be exposed.”

“I've acted rather badly, I know that.” Running a hand down the back of his neck, Louis avoided the boy’s gaze. “I’ll go send for Janvier now.” When Louis went to leave he paused, twisting his head around to look back at the youngster. “I believe you are the only one thus far that hasn’t truly blamed me. I’m sure my soldiers are using an image of me for target practice right about now.”

“May I ask what the queen had to say?” When Louis winced, d’Artagnan realized that Her Majesty must have been in a snit and had given her husband an earful.

“D’Artagnan, if you could avoid the matrimonial state I feel you’d be much better off.”

Left with those words, d’Artagnan pondered them for only a moment before his eyelids grew heavy and Morpheus cradled him in his arms. Perhaps if his sleep was deep enough, d'Artagnan wouldn't even need that pain draught.

++++

_Near noon – Garrison courtyard_

Strewn all around the inseparables were the bodies of the fallen recruits. All in various degrees of distress… or embarrassment. Depending upon how one looked at it.

Stepping back from the would-be soldiers, Athos sadly shook his head. If this was the best Paris could give them, the monarchy would be in jeopardy.

Aramis, on the other hand, pondered upon what he would be eating for lunch. He had missed breakfast and his stomach was growling. Teaching raw recruits gave him an appetite. Not as great as his friend Porthos though. No one could rival the larger Musketeer in that department.

Helping one of the lads up from the ground, Porthos had forgotten his own strength and the hapless man went flying right smack into a Musketeer who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Both men went down like trees in a tangle of limbs. All Porthos could do was grimace in sympathy. He hadn’t meant to do that but it was a funny sight to behold.

In an odd way, Porthos was glad this had happened. Some of these men had boasted their prowess with weapons. Today showed how overconfident these recruits were. The inseparables had enjoyed showing them what it truly meant to be a Musketeer. He’d bet some of his pay that by the end of the day half of them would be leaving the Garrison for good. Then again he didn’t have any coin to really bet with but that was neither here nor there. Glancing at his two friends, Porthos snorted, “Winnin’ isn’t everythin’.” Dark eyes twinkled with mischief. “Winnin’ and gloatin’ and rubbin’ their noses in it… bien, that’s everythin’.”

“That sentiment would be fine if we had been fighting with Red Guards,’ slowly drawled Athos in disgust. “Not when trying to teach our own men.”

“Alas, Porthos, our brother’s correct.” His stomach rumbling again Aramis looked over at Athos. “What time is it because I’m quite famished?”

“Let me guess.” Athos knew why his friend was hungry. “You were supposed to have turned in early last eve to be up with the birds to visit the Gascon.” Tilting his head to one side, Athos’ lip’s pursed. “But instead you went out to see one of your paramours. You just had enough time to meet us this morn to go to the palace.” With a rueful shake of his head, Athos tacked on, “Hence your empty belly.”

“You know me too well, mon frere.” A roguish smile lit Aramis’ handsome features. “I only managed to grab an apple before leaving Estelle’s apartment.”

“As you say, our friendship has been a long one. But if it had not all I would have needed to do was listen to all those rumors about you.” A gleam of satisfaction entered Athos’ blue eyes.

“Mmmmm,” hummed Aramis while dusting off his leathers. “The great thing about a rumor is you get to learn things about yourself that you didn’t already know.”

“Oy!” Pushing Aramis forward, Porthos steered the marksman toward the canteen. “Let’s feed ‘im before Mis starts spoutin’ poetry.”

“Indeed. We must not have that.” Refraining from saying anything further, since Aramis appeared annoyed at Porthos’ words, Athos followed them inside the canteen.

++++

_After three pm – The Bonacieux's residence_

When Constance had answered her door, she wasn’t surprised to see the wagon outside. Several Musketeers were with it to help their young charge inside her home and into the boy’s room. Listening to d'Artagnan arguing with the soldiers that he'd be fine on his own, she nearly rebuked the lad in front of his peers.

The young Gascon may be on the mend but Constance didn't need him falling on his face before Jacques came home. Thanking the two Musketeers she then helped make sure the lad was comfortably settled in bed. When d'Artagnan kept batting her hands away, she turned a stern eye upon him.

"Constance, I'm fine." He felt a bit windblown, if truth be known. There had been quite a gust of warm air dogging them upon their way here. Trying to untangle his long hair, which he was sure by now resembled that of a shaggy dog, d'Artagnan gave her one of his shy, sweet smiles.

"I'm sure that worked well on the girls back in Lupiac but your innocent look won't work with me." Tapping her foot, noting his crestfallen expression, Constance grinned. "I grew up with three idiot brothers and know all their tricks."

Not sure how to respond to her remarks about having siblings, d'Artagnan shrugged a shoulder. "There weren't _that_ many girls. I didn't have much free time what with working a farm with papa."

"Oh I'm sure you took some leisure time for yourself." She really ought to not tease him but it was too much fun.

"Do you know the hours that are put into a working farm?" Scowling at her, d'Artagnan wondered how they ended up talking about this.

"Non but Jacques and I would love to hear all about it later." Going to the door, she glanced over her shoulder. "I'll be fixing dinner in a few hours. Rest while you can."

++++

_A short time later_

Not wanting d'Artagnan to join them in the dining area until he was steadier upon his feet, no matter what the boy told them, Constance brought a hot plate of roasted chicken with steaming potatoes and vegetables up to him. Then she and Jacques brought their own meals up to eat with him.

"Jacques, notice anything different?" A coy glance at her husband showed Constance that Jacques was slightly amused at her question.

Fork in the air, Jacques finished chewing his food. "You know, d'Artagnan, the most terrifying question a woman can ask a man is _notice anything different?_ " When the lad nearly choked with laughter Jacques chuckled at the same time Constance took a playful swat at him. "I assume you mean the new curtains."

"Oui. I finished making them earlier this morn and replaced all the worn ones in every room." Savoring the taste of her meal, Constance missed the wink that was shared between Jacques and the youngster.

"I'd drape you in diamonds if I could afford it, mon coeur." Reaching for his glass of wine, Jacques drank half of it.

"Diamonds may be a woman's best friend," giggling, Constance held up her own glass of wine, "but wine is a close second." Watching her husband nearly spit out his drink, she was overcome with another fit of the giggles.

"So, d'Artagnan, I surmise that your injury's going to set back your training. I'm sorry for that," said Jacques.

"Athos told me that I could start doing some exercises that won't aggravate my wound while it heals. This way I could slowly start to train with them as long as I don't overdo it." Pushing his plate aside, d'Artagnan rested his head back against the headboard.

"If that's the case how soon are you to report to the Garrison?" questioned Constance, not sure twas a wise decision for the youngster to start so soon.

"Within another day I expect. Athos is leaving it up to me." Yawning, d'Artagnan slid down beneath the covers. "Apologies, suddenly I'm quite sleepy." Cracking one eye open at a time he stared at Constance who, for some reason, wouldn't meet his eyes. " _Mon Dieu! Aramis!_ "

Confused by what the lad meant, and the way Constance was avoiding eye contact with both of them, Jacques asked, "What's this about Aramis?"

"One of the Musketeers gave me a small vial and explained that it was from Aramis. He told me how to administer the sleeping draught to d'Artagnan so that he would get some rest." Taking her empty dishes along, Constance swept out of the room before d'Artagnan could say anything.

"Your wife's a sneaky woman." Words slurring, d'Artagnan's sleepy eyes refused to remain open any longer. "The king warned me off marriage earlier today. Now I see what he meant."

Bemused by the words of His Majesty to the boy, Jacques stood up and quietly left the lad in peace.

++++

_Notes:_

_Filleul_ – godson  
_Oncle_ – uncle  
_Parrain_ – godfather  
_Mes parrains_ – my godfathers  
_Docteur_ – doctor  
_Mon coeur_ \- sweetheart

 _Quote: “Winning isn’t everything. Winning and gloating and rubbing their noses in it… that’s everything.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: “The great thing about a rumor is you get to learn things about yourself that you didn’t already know.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Diamonds may be a woman's best friend but wine is a close second."_ \- from Maxine


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Two days later, mid morn - Garrison Courtyard_

The exercises Athos had given d'Artagnan had been easy enough. When he had finished, a loud thump upon the top of the bench where d'Artagnan sat gained his immediate attention. Gazing upon all the weapons scattered there, he turned his head to the side and caught Porthos' cheekily winking at him.

"Ya ain't up ta sparrin' yet but there's nothin' ta keep ya from cleanin' all of this." The woeful face the whelp turned upon Porthos nearly made him change his mind. "Ya do know 'ow ta clean 'em right?"

"Of course." Snorting, rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan readied himself to be here to well after the noon hour. He feared there would be nothing left for lunch by the time he got there. When a shadow fell upon him, d'Artagnan noted his mentor standing close beside him.

"May I ask what the deuce Aramis is up to over there?" Pointing over to the area where several targets had been set up, Athos' flinty gaze rested upon the marksman who appeared to be holding court.

++++

Bowing to his audience, Aramis was in rare form. "I would like to say merci to all the people who came into my life and made it outstanding!" Waiting for the applause to stop, he pressed on. "And also all the people who walked out of my life and made it fantastic!" When the laughter died down, some of the Musketeers went on about their business, the rest hung around waiting for their lessons. When a finger tapped Aramis upon his left shoulder, he turned his head to the side and caught Athos' unamused expression.

"Dare I ask what all that was in aid of?" Folding his arms, Athos looked every inch Treville's lieutenant and less like Aramis' brother-in-arms.

"I was in a mood to share my feelings." Adjusting his doublet, Aramis coyly smiled. "You know how I can get. Now that I've shared with everyone I have men to train."

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully as his friend turned away from him, Athos gave a rueful shake of his head. "I shall never understand him."

"I've known Mis longer than ya and I still can't figure 'im out." Bumping shoulders with Athos, Porthos walked past his brother to head over the training area for hand-to-hand combat.

Watching Porthos' large bulk move effortlessly through the throng of soldiers, Athos turned his attention back upon the pup. Slightly amused as he approached the bench again, he could barely see the top of the boy's head. A mountain of weaponry was piled high, badly in need of attention.

"Athos, I'll never get all of this done by the time Serge is ready to serve lunch. I didn't have much of an appetite this morn and Constance will get after me if she discovers I still didn't have anything." Pushing off to one side some muskets and poignards, he had already cleaned, d'Artagnan's soulful eyes latched onto those of his mentor's. "Would you mind bringing me something to eat when tis time?"

Sitting down opposite the lad, Athos removed his chapeau and placed it down beside him upon the bench seat. "I will do better than that, child." Reaching out for a few pistols, Athos' lips twitched. "I will lend you an extra pair of hands. We cannot have Constance boxing your ears when you get back home." His protégé's sunny smile was all the thanks he needed.

++++

_Royal Palace_

" _Louis!_ " Having been searching for her spouse, Anne was nearly read to give up until she gazed out at the royal gardens. Why none of the guards, stationed inside the palace, hadn't known Louis' whereabouts stymied her. Then again none of them knew her husband had a secret passage in his chambers either. Muttering under her breath, Anne stepped outside into the bright sunshine to join him. "It would have been nice if you had left word where you would be," she gently scolded.

"Quite right, ma chere. I should have." Plucking a fresh bloom, from one of the floral displays Louis had been admiring, he tucked it behind Anne's right ear. Noting the frown marring her lovely features, Louis sighed. "You're still upset with me." It was more a statement of fact than a question.

"Tis your own fault if I am." Drawing closer to him she placed a hand upon the side of Louis' face. Turning his head toward her, Anne stared into her husband's dark eyes. "Is it so very boring this life we have together?"

Removing her hand, Louis then placed a gentle kiss upon it. "I adore you, mon ange." Guiding Anne through the gardens, Louis kept her hand in the crook of his arm. "Just there are times one's soul craves freedom. That is how tis with me."

"What if you and I make a pact?" Her bright blue eyes danced merrily. "Whenever your soul wants to take flight you bring me along with you. Twould be nice to fly together instead of separately."

Stunned upon his wife's suggestion, Louis was momentarily at a loss for words. Finally finding his tongue he replied, "Would you mind d'Artagnan coming along?"

"I would like nothing better than get to know that young man." Tapping her chin lightly, Anne tilted her head to one side. "Still we shall have to be accompanied by other guards. Especially since d'Artagnan has a way to go before joining Captain Treville's ranks of Musketeers."

Lightly kissing Anne's brow, Louis was pleased. "I'm proud to have such a beautiful, understanding queen by my side." Her tinkling laughter lightened his heart. Continuing their stroll, they both lost themselves in naming the many varieties of flowers within their garden.

++++

_Back at the Garrison Courtyard_

Busy still cleaning and sorting through the many weapons Porthos had given d'Artagnan, another shadow cast over his shoulder gave him pause. When the familiar tone of his parrain broke over him, he held back a huge grin.

"I see you're keeping busy, d'Artagnan." Eyeing all the equipment the boy was cleaning, Treville frowned.

"I finished my exercises early and since I have to wait until I can start sparring this was the next best thing." D'Artagnan wasn't sure his parrain was happy with his explanation but it was the truth.

"Would the name of the party who gave you this duty go by the name of _Porthos_?" His steady gaze did not rest upon his filleul. Non, Treville locked eyes with his lieutenant instead.

Not sure if he should say oui or not, d'Artagnan remained silent.

Waving a hand in the air, Treville winced. "Never mind, son. At least Athos is helping you out."

Following the young Gascon's example, Athos too kept quiet. Knowing that the boy didn't know what the captain was getting at, he would explain things to d'Artagnan later. If there was a way for Porthos to get out of work, Athos' larger brother would make it happen. Sometimes without the innocent party in question knowing he had had the wool pulled over his eyes.

Feeling a gentle squeeze to his left shoulder, d'Artagnan smiled up at his parrain. He noted pride in that craggly face which reminded d'Artagnan when he had been a mere petit. Learning how to handle a wooden sword, one that had been made specially for him by his oncle Jean-Armand, and tripping over it time after time until d'Artagnan could perfect his technique. Good memories those and he hoped to make new ones the longer he was here.

"Athos, you may inform Porthos that the stable needs mucking out." Saying that gave Treville great satisfaction. "Young Tristian came down sick and someone needs to do it."

"I shall make sure he knows, sir." Keeping a straight face, Athos waited until Treville walked away. When he was positive the captain would not be able to see nor hear him, laughter erupted from the depth of Athos' soul. Noting confusion spreading across his protégé's face, he figured that explanation was now due. "You're doing what Porthos had been assigned, lad."

When his brain registered the meaning behind Athos' words, d'Artagnan's mouth dropped open in surprise. "I could call Porthos something right now but I've been taught to mind my elders."

"Hold that thought, child." Grinning still, Athos helped the boy finish their task. "I've let loose on Porthos many a time. Eventually you'll come to know when he's up to something."

"Seems there are many things I have to learn," grumbled d'Artagnan. "And not all of them have anything to do with soldiering." Upon Porthos marching back their way, d'Artagnan could tell the giant appeared quite upset.

"I've found the secret key ta life long 'appiness is ta stay away from assholes." Swinging his legs over the bench seat, Porthos sat beside the kid.

"I take it hand-to-hand did not go so well?" Arching a brow, Athos glanced over at the scowling face of his brother.

"Every day I arrive at work with good intentions and a great attitude... then idiots 'appen!" Huffing his displeasure, Porthos' glare continued to rest upon the recruits who had given him such a poor showing. When one of them, Andre, slowly approached him Porthos stood up to his full height which was considerable.

"I... I wanted to... to apologize, Porthos," stammered Andre, afraid of the dark-skinned Musketeer.

"I'm pretty sure if'n I smacked the stupid outta ya there wouldn't be anythin' left," growled Porthos. Observing how Andre nervously shifted from foot to foot had given him some semblance of satisfaction.

"I'll try... try to do better... next time." Then Andre took off like a bat out of hell, without giving Porthos time to react.

"You have quite an effect upon them." Hoping that Porthos never had reason to act so with him, d'Artagnan exchanged a wry look with his mentor.

"Yeah, but not the _effect_ I want," retorted Porthos.

" _Heads up, d'Artagnan!_ " came a voice out of the blue.

Swiveling his head left and right, d'Artagnan finally noted a projectile coming his way about to smack him in the face. Fortunately for him a hand reached out just in time to catch the object before it could cause any damage. Porthos then placed a shiny red apple down in front of him.

Sauntering up to the table, Aramis grinned down at the lad. "You're supposed to eat it not stare at it, d'Artagnan."

"Ya could of clobbered the kid with that apple." Shaking a finger at his friend, Porthos couldn't help but smile at the mischievous twinkle in Aramis' eyes.

"D'Artagnan, here's a tip for if anyone troubles you." His eyes touching upon each of his friends, Aramis chuckled. "An apple a day will keep anyone away... if you throw it hard enough."

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan joined in with the laughter that followed the marksman's words. His amusement died a quick death though when a sharp pain radiated up and down his side. Clutching the area where his wound was, he sucked in a deep breath. "I feel this is going to set me back more than I'd like."

"Hardships often prepare ordinary people for an extraordinary destiny, child." Standing up, Athos went to stand behind the boy. Squeezing the back of his protégé's neck, he leaned down to whisper in d'Artagnan's ear. "I feel in my bones that you will be the best of us." The young Gascon blushed until even the tips of his ears turned red.

"Your words mean a great deal to me, Athos." Swallowing down the lump in his throat, it was then that d'Artagnan's stomach growled.

"I do believe tis time to feed you, lad." Throwing a casual arm across the youngster's shoulders, Athos steered d'Artagnan toward the canteen.

++++

_Notes:_

_Poignard_ \- dagger  
_Mon ange_ \- my angel  
_Parrain_ \- godfather  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Oncle_ \- uncle

 _Quote: "I would like to say thank you to all the people who came into my life and made it outstanding. And also all the people who walked out of my life and made it fantastic!"_ from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote" I've found the secret key to life long happiness is to stay away from a**holes."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Every day I arrive at work with good intentions and a great attitude... then idiots happen."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I'm pretty sure if I smacked the stupid out of you there wouldn't be anything left."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "An apple a day will keep anyone away... if you throw it hard enough."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Hardships often prepare ordinary people for an extraordinary destiny."_ \- from C.S. Lewis. Clive Staples Lewis (29 November 1898 – 22 November 1963) was a British writer and lay theologian. He was best known for his works of fiction, especially The Screwtape Letters, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Space Trilogy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, after the noon hour - Garrison Canteen_

Having entered the canteen the inseparables, along with d’Artagnan, noted a group of other Musketeers gathered around a sign tacked upon the wall.

“Maybe Serge’s advertising today’s special,” suggested an amused Aramis. Hooking his foot around a chair leg he pulled it out and sat down. “Or could be he’s advertising for some new kitchen help. He scared the last two boys away, if I remember correctly.”

When Pascal walked past their table, Porthos snagged the other man’s arm. “What’s up with that?” Pointing to the sign, he was curious to hear the answer.

Scratching the back of his head, Pascal made a face. “I’m hoping Serge is simply pulling our legs.”

“In what way?” asked Athos who was just as curious as his friends.

“Serge wrote… _Kitchen closed due to illness. I’m sick of cooking_." Giving them a pitiful look, because he was hungry, Pascal walked back to his own table.

“’E’s gotta be kiddin' us,” said Porthos. Looking over at Aramis he hoped his friend wouldn’t pass out from hunger, since the man had skipped breakfast because of certain nocturnal activities. Though Porthos had to admit his brother was beginning to look a bit peaked.

Just then old Serge came tearing out of the kitchen cussing a blue streak. Wiping his hands upon his apron, he kept grumbling. ‘I’m always forced to do things I’m not qualified for.” Pushing past some of the Musketeers who were still concentrating on his sign, Serge stabbed them with a glacial look and finished what he was saying. “Like being nice to stupid people.”

Watching the former Musketeer heading for the exit, Aramis spoke up. “Ummm, Serge, are you serious about not preparing anything?”

“The lads back in my kitchen will be taking care of all your empty bellies.” Untying his greasy apron Serge then threw it away. Before departing, he heard some of the soldiers laughing. Suspicious over it, Serge glanced over his shoulder. Discovering what was so amusing, he too chuckled. “You wear it better than me, Porthos.”

Scowling at Athos and Aramis along with the whelp as they howled with laughter along with many others, Porthos tore off the apron that had found its way over his head.

“Perhaps we are better off finding our way over to one of the taverns in town.” Eyeing all the men waiting to be served, Athos determined it a more prudent move. “I do believe Serge’s apprentices are going to have their hands full and I for one do not feel like waiting hours to eat.”

All in full agreement with the older Musketeer, the foursome made their way back outside to get their horses.

++++

_In the city_

Later, exiting La Taverne des Clés Croisées, the inseparables and d’Artagnan found themselves being taunted by several rough looking characters.

“Oh look at the giant!” snorted Benedeit to his cohorts.

“Yeah, the bigger they are the harder they fall. Why don’t we see?” Grinning at the dark-skinned Musketeer, Duval would have loved nothing better than to run his sword through the man. He hated soldiers with a real vengeance.

“Didn’t realize they let dandies into the king’s regiment nowadays.” Turning up his nose at the one wearing the blue sash and ridiculously large feather in the soldier’s chapeau, Daniau flashed an evil smile toward his friends.

“ _Mon Dieu!_ There’s even a petit garcon trailing after them,” crowed Lamar. The lad didn’t even have a beard yet so he couldn’t be very old. What was the king thinking of? “His Majesty must be desperate if his captain’s been reduced to robbing the cradle of enfants.”

++++

“Are we just going to stand here and take that?” questioned d’Artagnan. His eyes bounced back and forth between his friends. He hated being sidelined like this and hoped that the inseparables wouldn’t put up with that riffraff’s taunts. Still d’Artagnan badly wanted to take part in stuffing those derogatory remarks down their throats.

“We are not going to create a spectacle over a few trifle insults.” Quietly seething, Athos did not let it show how those buffoon’s words affected him.

“We’re not? Why didn’t ya let us know?” Not fully agreeing with how Athos felt, Porthos was ready to crack a few heads together. “Cause I’m ready ta brain ‘em.”

Lightly touching the feather in his chapeau, Aramis frowned. “Speaking for myself I feel greatly insulted upon their words of my attire, as I’m usually in the height of fashion.”

Rolling his eyes, Athos glanced over at the boy. “Why have you not chimed in? After all they called you an _enfant_.”

Shrugging one shoulder, d’Artagnan smiled. “I am the youngest that is true. Can’t argue with that.” He held back telling his mentor that helping the inseparable’s teach those men a lesson was very tempting, but he tried to calm himself so Athos wouldn't worry.

Glaring at both Porthos and Aramis, Athos placed a hand upon the pup’s arm. “At least someone shows sense.”

“’Ave ya noticed they didn’t poke fun at Athos yet?” Before anyone could respond to Porthos’ question, Athos broke in.

“I would assume they have decided to show some signs of intelligence.” A satisfied smirk crossed Athos’ lips.

“Oy! Is that what it is?” Disregarding his brother’s words over not making a scene, Porthos stepped forward first toward the imbecile that talked about him. With a devilish gleam in his eyes, Porthos waved his antagonist closer. “Let’s see what you’re made of.” Removing his weapons belt he handed it over to the whelp. Noting the other man’s eyes go wide, Porthos chuckled. “Nothin’ makes a better impression than me knockin’ your teeth back into your throat.”

Benedeit swallowed hard and followed the large soldier’s example, giving his pistol and sword to Duval. It wouldn’t be the first time he used his fists and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last.

Closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, Athos murmured low enough for only their youngest to hear. “Oh here we go.” Movement to his left however had him squinting into the sunlight to observe Aramis unsheathing his sword. “ _Merde!_ ” This time Athos wasn’t as quiet with his displeasure.

Squaring off with the dandy, Daniau drew out his own blade. Thinking to himself that this ought to be a lot of fun, he crossed swords with the fancy Musketeer.

Rubbing his side, d’Artagnan winced. His wound was only slightly sore now. Still it made itself felt whenever he moved the wrong way. Oui, twas healing nicely but d’Artagnan wasn’t up to engaging in a duel, even if he wanted to. Which he did. To tell you the truth d'Artagnan considered throwing all caution to the wind and challenging one of the two that weren't involved in the fighting yet. "There are still two left, Athos." Having done with pondering what he should do, d'Artagnan decided he'd deal with the pain after all. Starting to move past his mentor he found a strong arm blocking his way.

A lone brow arched high. “Testing me, child?” The young Gascon merely grinned cheekily at Athos. “Do not tell me you are going to be an idiot like Aramis and Porthos?”

“Fine,” chortled d’Artagnan. “I won’t tell you that. Now let me by.”

“You cannot possibly fight right now.” Frustrated, Athos was close to shoving the boy back inside the tavern and tying the lad up until all this craziness was done with. “Do you want to land in the infirmary? I'm sure King Louis would not be pleased upon hearing you have been hurt again." The pout covering d'Artagnan's face made Athos feel like a heel. He wondered if the Gascon had perfected that look when he had been a mere petit. If so Athos felt that the pup must have had his family eating out of his hands. "Do not forget that I would have to deal with Treville who no doubt would jump down my throat if you got injured once more." Finally! There was the reaction Athos wanted. It would appear that bringing up the captain had done the trick.

"All right you win but you better take care of those two gloating batards." Arching a brow of his own, d'Artagnan's arms crossed while waiting to see what the older man's decision would be.

Holding a finger up in front of the child's nose, Athos' blue eyes blazed. "Not a word of this to the captain or I will personally box your ears."

"I dare say that Constance would do a better job of that than you." Chuckling at his retort d'Artagnan noted that his mentor wasn't amused.

"Do not give me any of your cheek, lad, or perhaps you would enjoy feeling my hand upon your derriere."

Instantly, d'Artagnan's smile vanished to be replaced by a deepening scowl directed at Athos. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." A light smack of his sword against the young Gascon's backside and Athos took off after the other two men.

Wishing he would have been allowed to at least take down the one who thought of him as an _enfant_ , d'Artagnan settled back to enjoy the show.

++++

A hard elbow into the face of Porthos' opponent had the other man staggering back, stumbling right into a horse trough. Hands upon his hips, Porthos threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Guess this _giant_ got the best of ya!"

With a sparkle in his eyes, Aramis danced around the man who had the audacity to call him a _dandy_. When his blade made contact with his opponent's belt, Aramis was tickled to death observing the other man lose his pants and his dignity all with one blow. "Guess this _dandy_ showed you." Sauntering away, Aramis had had the last laugh.

Considering he had taken on two ruffians, Athos judged their skill with a blade to be poor at best. Hardly even worth his effort to engage them. Still if he did not do it he feared d'Artagnan would. With a hard strike against his younger opponent's sword Athos smirked when it went flying. With a boot to the other man's back, Athos sent him into the dirt. A fitting place for vermin like that.

Which left the last one. A fierce lunge from Athos pushed the other ruffian close to where the pup stood. Not wanting his protégé to get involved, he tried to maneuver them both in a different direction. It didn't matter though as it appeared that d'Artagnan had other ideas. Suddenly, without warning, Athos' opponent stood before him drenched with water. Lips curling upward he watched the bedraggled unfortunate remove a bucket that had landed upon his head. Glancing over at the child's unrepentant face, Athos could only dip his head in thanks.

With their tails firmly tucked between their legs, the four embarrassed troublemakers left the area.

Gathering around d'Artagnan, the inseparables didn't even appear out of breath from their exertions.

"Let this be a life lesson for you, lad." Leaning against the boy, Aramis ruffled the younger man's hair.

"Interesting lesson," mused d'Artagnan who tried to get away from his friend's hand. "I especially liked how the one you fought lost his pants." Snickering, he teased the marksman. "I'll have to ask Captain Treville if that's to be part of my training." When all three men loudly protested against d'Artagnan doing so, he began to laugh at them.

"Gentlemen, I believe we are overdue back at the Garrison and should make haste." Making sure everyone was following him, Athos led the way to where they had left their mounts.

++++

_Garrison_

Treville, after some fast talking, had smoothed over Serge's ruffled feathers. He had promised the old man more help. Even if Treville had to seek the extra workers from some of the local inns himself. He certainly couldn't afford to have his men go hungry. Also knowing the monarchy didn't line a Musketeer's pockets very well, Treville didn't want his men going broke paying for their meals elsewhere.

From his position atop his balcony, Treville observed his filleul riding past the gates. The boy was followed by the inseparables. The latter three looked quite smug, making Treville wonder what happened this time. Rubbing the back of his neck, his lips pursed. Perhaps he was better off not knowing. Though the amusement upon d'Artagnan's face had Treville growing very curious.

Bien, Treville would find out later from the boy what had transpired. For now there was that promise for him to keep or else Serge would go on strike again permanently. Heaven help them all, if that were to happen! Shuddering just thinking upon it, Treville went back into his office to retrieve his cloak and chapeau. Best get this over and done with, no matter how long it took.

++++

_Stables_

When everyone had dismounted and waited for the stable boys to take care of their horses, d'Artagnan and the inseparables observed Captain Treville ride past them with a determined look upon his face.

"Mmmmm," hummed Aramis. "Now there goes a man upon a mission."

"Wonder where 'e's goin'. Captin' sure didn't look 'appy," said Porthos.

Tobias, one of the Musketeers coming off his shift had overheard them. "The captain's going to bring back more kitchen help or else Serge will quit."

None of them had anything to say to that. Privately they all hoped Captain Treville would be successful.

"Oh by the way, Porthos," tapping his friend upon the back, Athos waited for him to turn around so he could have the pleasure of telling this to his brother's face, "I nearly forgot my earlier orders but you are to stay here and muck out the stables." Porthos' face blanched which gave great satisfaction to Athos. "Did you honestly think you would get away with it? Treville was not pleased and actually nor was I."

Large shoulders slumped in defeat. Casting his eyes upon the whelp, Porthos apologized. "Sorry, kid." The boy simply nodded his head back at him but kept quiet. D'Artagnan was a good sport. If it had been anyone else, Porthos would probably have found himself being challenged to a fight for tricking a brother.

"Here, this should help." Pushing a shovel into his friend's hands, Aramis stepped back just in case Porthos took a swing at him.

"You're all heart, Mis." Stomping over to the stable doors Porthos disappeared inside but not before catching Aramis' parting words, along with muffled amusement from the marksman.

"I already know that, mon ami. Tis what I excel at."

Being on light duties, d'Artagnan wondered what he would be doing for the rest of the day. The answer came about in an unexpected manner. A Musketeer approached him and gave d'Artagnan a missive from his Oncle Armand. Knowing that Aramis and Athos had seen the delivery, d'Artagnan had to do some quick thinking. They wouldn't understand why the First Minister of France would be wanting to speak with him. So since the other two had no idea what the letter contained, he lied to them. "It seems that the king wants to see me again."

"Someone's becoming favored," teased Aramis.

"Considering what Louis recently put the child through," drawled Athos, "tis certainly not surprising. After all d'Artagnan saved His Majesty's life." Gently squeezing the back of the lad's neck he said, "Go before our monarch does something else daft." Listening to his protégé's chuckles, as the young Gascon left them, Athos glanced over his shoulder at Aramis. "Tis just you and I now, mon frere."

"I'm positive between the two of us we could find some trouble elsewhere to get into." A quick wink at his friend and Aramis headed for the courtyard with Athos by his side.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal - Cardinal Richelieu's office_

"Smart move having a Musketeer deliver your letter to me," remarked d'Artagnan, more than curious as to why his parrain summoned him.

"What did you tell your friends?"

"That I was being summoned to the palace by King Louis." Sitting upon the edge of Oncle Armand's desk, d'Artagnan played with an inkwell until it was plucked from his hand.

"You spill that and you'll ruin all the hard work I've put in this morning." Getting up from his chair, Armand moved to stand in front of his filleul. "Knowing your duties to be light until you fully mend I thought you could accompany me on a short excursion."

"But what of what I told Athos and Aramis just before coming here?"

"I'll tell Louis what I want to do and have him send a note to Jean-Armand. Your brothers will simply assume I was at the palace too and had requested your presence on this trip I've planned."

"All this subterfuge." Whistling through his teeth, d'Artagnan was beginning to wonder if it was worth all the trouble.

"If anything I'm sure your friends may believe I'm taking you with me as a reward for saving Louis." Noting that d'Artagnan didn't appear convinced, Armand tipped the boy's chin up. "Have faith, child."

"I have faith that one day all our lies may blow up in our faces," snorted d'Artagnan. His parrain's amusement over his words brought an answering grin to his own face. "Now tell me where we're going."

++++

Notes:

Petit garcon – little boy  
_Enfants_ – basically it refers to being a child  
_Batards_ \- bastards  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Oncle_ \- uncle  
_Parrain_ \- godfather

 _La Taverne des Clés Croisées:_ The Cross Keys Tavern. Thanks goes to FierGascon as she helped me with the French name for my tavern.

 _Quote: “Kitchen closed due to illness… I’m sick of cooking.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: “I’m always forced to do things I’m not qualified for. Like being nice to stupid people.”_ – from Aunty Acid.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, mid morn - Enroute to Courbevoie_

“I’m happy at least this journey will be a short one.”

Noting the boy wince, whenever their carriage went over rocky terrain, Armand silently seconded d’Artagnan’s opinion. “Less than a day’s ride from Paris. So your injury shouldn’t be overly aggravated by the time we arrive at our destination.”

“As long as the driver minds the roads.” _Merde!_ D’artagnan’s side was doing just fine until it seemed that the coachman had decided to go out of his way to travel over every rut and rock in their path.

Sticking his head out of the window, Richelieu called out to the driver to find a smoother path. Now he focused his attention back upon making his filleul think of something else other than their bumpy ride thus far. Smiling at the lad he said, “Monseigneur Patenaude is a wily rascal. I do believe you’ll like him.”

Grinning, d’Artagnan snorted. “What you really mean is that Monseigneur is a lot like you, Oncle Jean-Armand and papa.

“Exactly,” chuckled Armand. It would appear that nothing could get past this boy.

“Why are you going to see him in the first place, if I may ask?”

“Maurille has some papers he wanted to give me in person. Since I haven’t seen him for some while, I thought this a perfect opportunity to do so.” Winking at the youngster, Armand added, “This way I also get to introduce you to him.”

Glancing out of the window, d’Artagnan dreamt wistfully of the day he would become a Musketeer. Oh he knew it would be a long road ahead of him. But it didn’t hurt to pray to God that his path wouldn’t be as rocky as this road they were traveling. Tilting his head, d’Artagnan studied his older companion. “Do you think it wrong to ask God to help me be worthy of earning my pauldron?”

Tapping his chin with a finger, Armand quietly hummed in thought. “I don’t think you should spend your life praying for things, child, but I do believe you should thank God for what He’s given you… but I think the scripture teaches us that we can pray for our dreams, pray for the big things.” Armand practically beamed at his filleul. “He’s not a small God. This God is incredible!”

Closing his eyes, d’Artagnan leaned his head back. Bien, he would continue praying for his dreams then. He didn’t feel God would truly mind them.

++++

 _Short time later – Courbevoie -_ Monseigneur Patenaude’s Residence

An enthusiastic hug greeted Armand from his friend. Also he noted relief in those hazel eyes that stared right into his own. “Tis good to have this opportunity to visit with you, Maurille.”

Reaching out, Armand pulled the boy forward. “I’d like you to meet my filleul d’Artagnan. He’s recently suffered an injury and is on light duties for the moment.”

“And so you thought to bring him along.” Smiling at the youngster, Maurille pulled d’Artagnan toward him and gave the lad a kiss upon each cheek. “Welcome to my home.” Guiding them inside his house, Maurille cast his eyes upon the lad once more. “Though I’m afraid you’ll soon find yourself bored while Armand and I go over the business that's brought him here.”

“Do you have horses, Monseigneur?” If the man did, d’Artagnan would pass an enjoyable time with them.

“But of course.” Maurille was surprised at the question. “My stable is in back of the house.” Glancing at Armand, he caught a glint of something like amusement hovering over his friend’s lips.

“D’Artagnan has a magical way with the animals and can always be found around them,” offered Armand.

“Then by all means, d’Artagnan, you’re more than welcome to lose yourself in my stable.” Turning back to the matter at hand, Maurille took the sheaf of papers from the bottom drawer of his desk. “Come, Armand, let us go over these."  

D'Artagnan, left to his own devices, took up the Monseigneur's kind offer and went to check out the older man's stable.

++++

_Stable_

Running his hand over the flank of a chestnut beauty, d'Artagnan felt right at home. There were four horses in all, just as beautiful as the one he was currently admiring. He had a feeling they were just as curious about him as d'Artagnan was about them. As he moved from one horse to the other, sounds of angry voices could be heard coming from outside. Curious, d'Artagnan drew closer to the partially opened stable doors to listen.

++++

" _Nom de Dieu!_ " was the frustrated curse that exploded from Herve. "If we don't take this to the king now all of us will lose our land to that batard!" Gathered around him were friends and neighbors, all just as upset over the current circumstances that brought them to this point.

"If La Martiniere continues the way he's been going, none of us are safe." A grim look came over Gerard's face, while mulling it over. "We can't keep looking over our shoulders. But I'm tired of being victimized by him."

"Fences busted up, penned up animals either escaping or disappearing all together," grumbled Archer. "We know the Baron's behind this."

"What was the last you heard, Valery?" impatiently asked Herve.

"The Baron is now claiming that he has legal land grants stating that all our property really belongs to him." Listening to curses rent the air his words had brought about, Valery's lips thinned into a tight line. He knew, as did the others, the land grants were forged but proving it was another thing entirely.

"I say we take matters upon ourselves and end this!" Emerson was fed up. "If needs must we'll arrange an accident for La Martiniere." Gazing at all his friends, he doubted that even one tear would be shed over the Baron.

"Keep your voice down when speaking upon murder," hissed Herve. "Taking this to His Majesty would be the more prudent thing to do without spilling blood."

++++

Quietly closing the stable door, d'Artagnan went back to where the horses waited for his attentions. Considering what he had just heard, he wondered if Monseigneur knew what was going on around him. It seemed nearly impossible that his parrain's friend was oblivious to the unrest happening right under his nose. D'Artagnan decided that he would mention all that he had heard to both men when he made his way back to the house.

++++

Gathering the documents together, Maurille had gone over with him, Armand put them carefully inside his satchel. Picking up a glass of wine, his host had generously shared with him, he glanced out a window noting a group of men not far from the stable. "Maurille, who are they?" Pointing toward the men, Armand glanced at his friend curiously.

Joining him, Maurille took a look out at the crowd and frowned. "Most of them are my neighbors. They've all been going through hard times recently."

Noting the angry expressions they wore, Armand had a feeling there was more to it than just _hard times_. "Care to enlighten me?" As Maurille did so, he gave him his full attention.

++++

The first thing d'Artagnan did when he came back was to seek out his parrain. Finding him in the den with Monseigneur, he then explained what he had overheard. "This should be stopped now and not brought before King Louis. Do you not think so, Oncle?"

Eyeing the boy closely, Maurille noted the fire just simmering below the surface. It begged to come out of the young Gascon to fight the injustices being done to the people Maurille deemed his friends.

"Oncle, why can't you confront this La Martiniere?"

Before Armand could respond Maurille interjected saying, "Georges de la Martiniere had the title of Baron bestowed upon him when his père had passed away. Unfortunately he is nothing like the man." Remembering the old Baron, Maurille murmured a quick prayer for his soul. He had always been a kind person. "This Baron thirsts for power and prestige and doesn't care who he has to walk over to gain it."

"It sounds as if the Baron isn't above using either if La Martiniere brings this up with our young monarch." A shrewd look at his filleul had Armand's eyes widen in dismay. "Oh non, non, non, d'Artagnan! When you get that look in your eyes it usually always spelled trouble for myself, Jean-Armand, Alexandre and your poor maman."  Hoping bringing that up would sway the lad in another direction he tacked on, "Since they are not here to put a stop to it, then tis left up to me."

"You're First Minister of France." Pointing out the obvious, d'Artagnan glared back at him. "Surely that's enough weight to carry with the Baron when you tell him you've heard what's happening here."

Armand realized the child was right. Confrontation would be the next logical step, except for a few minor details. "I didn't bring along a contingent of guards as you well know." Getting up from his chair, Armand went to stand beside the boy. "Also I need proof that the land grants the Baron possesses are fake. Otherwise tis his word against everyone else’s."

"The angered men outside that this affects would be enough protection for you." A sly look came over d'Artagnan. "As for your _proof_... I believe I could remedy that problem for you."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Armand sighed in resignation. "Why am I not surprised?"

++++

Patenaude gathered the men outside into his home. Introducing his guest had quite the effect upon them. Shock hadn't quite covered their reaction. After the introductions had been established, he stood aside as Cardinal Richelieu took over.

"My filleul was in the stable and overheard your problems with La Martiniere." Richelieu paced back and forth in front of the men. "Before I could do anything upon your behalves we need to establish that the Baron's land grants are false."

"That's where I come in," said d'Artagnan. "Do any of you know of someone within the vicinity that would do such work for this Baron?"

" _Eytinge_ would. He works out of the city," nervously offered Herve. "He's known to be an expert forgerer for the right price."

"I'm sure there are more known ones in Paris other than this one man," dryly remarked Richelieu, arching a brow.

"Oui," agreed Herve. "But word has it that Eytinge's been bragging about a hefty payout he recently received from a rich patron."

"Then, Herve, if you wouldn't mind being my guide," grinned d'Artagnan, "I'd like to pay this man a visit."

"D'Artagnan," a deep scowl covered Armand's face, "I don't like you going in alone."

"I won't be, Oncle." Throwing a casual arm about Herve's shoulders, d'Artagnan cheekily winked at his parrain.

"At least take with you one of my guards." Not liking this one bit, Armand was beginning to wish they had never came here.

"Your guard would stick out like a sore thumb," scoffed d'Artagnan. "Anyway you don't have enough of them to spare."

"May I remind you, lad, that you're the one that told me all of these men would be guard enough?" Relishing what Armand thought he'd chalk up as a victory he was soon disabused of that notion.

"I know I did but tis the Red Guard with the experience to protect you." Pointing to the group of men listening to their exchange, d'Artagnan continued, "They would be extra muscle as Porthos would say."

"I can see that nothing I say is going to dissuade you from this course." Wagging a finger at the boy, Armand warned him. "But you better be careful and not get further injured for I wouldn't be able to face Jean-Armand if you did... nor King Louis for that matter."

"Do not stress yourself. I'll return with this Eytinge and he will swear to you upon a stick of Bibles that what the Baron holds are nothing but forgeries." Dipping his head at Monseigneur and his parrain, d'Artagnan departed with Herve trailing after him.

"I'm glad I chose the church over marriage and never had any children," wearily murmured Armand. "D'Artagnan's a prime example of why I'm glad to be only his parrain. I sometimes find myself wondering how my friends Alexandre and Françoise did it for all those years."

"I'm not quite sure what you mean, mon ami?" questioned Maurille.

"D'Artagnan's always had the belief that good prevails over any evil. It has gotten him into more trouble than I can count."

"Is not that what our Bible teaches us though, Armand?" Amusement lit Maurille's eyes.

"Touché." Sending up a prayer for his filleul's speedy and safe return back to them, Armand reached for another glass of wine.

++++

_Back to Paris_

In the seedier side of the city, close to the Court, d’Artagnan followed Herve upon foot. They had left their mounts at the local livery stable so they wouldn't have to worry about them. D’Artagnan wasn’t surprised to find that the forgerer had made his home among the gutter rats and voleurs of Paris. Wanting to get this over and done with, he poked Herve hard in the back. “Are we there yet?”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes. Took me some time to remember as I haven’t been into the city for a few months.” His eyes darting to and fro Herve wasn’t comfortable in this place, even though he carried no coin on him to be stolen. The greedy eyes upon them both were beginning to make him skittish.

Understanding, d’Artagnan obediently followed the older man until Herve stopped in front of a hovel. The place amounted to nothing more than a dirty hut. Now that he had time to think upon it, this Eytinge had to have made a lucrative deal with the Baron. So why did the forgerer continue to live here in filth? Unless the man had another place somewhere else within the city and kept this one up for appearance’s sake.

“This is where he lives, d’Artagnan.” Uncomfortable, Herve was afraid to follow the boy inside.

“You may stay out here if you’d like,” offered d’Artagnan. “If Eytinge is inside this shouldn’t take very long.”

When the young Gascon knocked upon the crooked door and then disappeared inside, twas then that Herve wondered if he were on the verge of a nervous breakdown because his hands were shaking so much. It was one thing to rally a group of men together to fight for a just cause and an entirely different one to take on a man of disrepute without backup.

Running a hand down the side of his face, Herve prayed the lad was successful. All they would need now was for some busybody getting the Red Guards involved, if things were to go haywire. If that happened he knew they would fare far better with Musketeers instead, since this boy was to be one of them some day. Perhaps he should have gone inside with d’Artagnan after all, since Herve was doing nothing but driving himself crazy.

++++

Eytinge’s home, if one could call it that, was dark and dingy inside. Squinting to get a better view, d’Artagnan still couldn’t make out a thing. “Monsieur Eytinge,” he called out.

“Who wants to know?” growled a deep voice from somewhere behind d’Artagnan.

Whirling around, hand upon the hilt of his sword, d’Artagnan was at the ready for any trouble. “I do.” When the man appeared out of the shadows, d’Artagnan’s mouth nearly dropped open in shock. If he had met this fellow upon the docks, he would have been hard pressed not to believe Eytinge wasn't a pirate. There was even a black patch over the voleur’s left eye. D'Artagnan even had to crane his neck in order to make eye contact. _Mon Dieu!_ Eytinge was even taller than Porthos. With that thought alone D'Artagnan remembered papa's words to him, about biting off more than he could chew, which would happen whenever he had taken on something bigger than himself. Guess this was one of those times.

++++

_Notes:_

_Filleul_ – godson  
_Monseigneur_ – French for Monsignor, meaning *My Lord*.  
_Nom de Dieu_ \- God damn it  
_Batard_ \- bastard  
_Parrain_ \- godfather  
_Oncle_ \- uncle

 _Voleur_ \- thief

  
_Quote:_ _“I don’t think you should spend your life praying for things, but I do believe you should thank God for what He’s given you… but I think the scripture teaches us that we can pray for our dreams, pray for the big things… He’s not a small God. This God is incredible!”_ – from Joel Osteen. Joel Scott Osteen (born March 5, 1963), is an American pastor, televangelist and author based in Houston, TX.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, late morn – Paris... Where we last saw d’Artagnan facing off against Eytinge_

The voleur’s bulk gave d’Artagnan great pause. A… lot… of… pause. So he tried to approach his problem from another angle. “Baron La Martiniere sent me here to bring you back to him upon an urgent matter he needs to discuss with you.”

“Is it worth my while, kid?”

“Money had been mentioned for your trouble.” All d’Artagnan wanted to do at that moment was to get this giant pirate outside and be upon their way without mishap. “We have a horse for you at the livery stable where we left our own.”

Grunting over the inconvenience, Eytinge gathered up his belongings he needed and followed the boy out.

++++

Herve breathed a sigh of relief, noting the lad appeared unharmed. When d’Artagnan came over to him, quickly whispering for him to play along, he had to wonder what the youngster had done.

Heading for the livery stable, it was then when d'Artagnan thought his plan would fall apart. He froze upon hearing his name called out several times by multiple, and very familiar, voices. Not now! He didn’t believe the bad timing of it. Hastening his pace, d’Artagnan prayed they’d leave him be.

++++

“Whelp’s ‘ard of ‘earin’ all of a sudden.” Glancing at his brother’s worried frowns, Porthos began to realize something may be afoot.

“D’Artagnan had to have heard us,” whispered Athos. “I noted his steps at first faltered when we tried to gain his attention.”

Eyes narrowed upon the young pup and his two other companions. Aramis twisted his head around to stare at his friends. “I suggest following them at a discreet distance.”

“Judging by the direction they are taking,” pointed out Athos, “the livery stable is their destination. Let us go back for our own mounts quickly so we do not lose track of them when they depart.”

++++

_Enroute to Courbevoie_

Last time he’d look, d’Artagnan hadn’t seen any sight of the inseparables following them. That was the only good news he’d had since retrieving Eytinge.

Riding beside the silent duo, Eytinge was beginning to have troubling thoughts of his own. Perhaps he had agreed to quickly to go see the Baron. A bad feeling suddenly came over him, making him suspicious. This was not the usual way he was contacted by La Martiniere. An idea then began to form in Eytinge’s head. Deciding to test the youth he questioned him. “Can’t say I don’t mind going back. The Baron’s daughter is quite something to look at.”

Not sure how to respond, d’Artagnan maintained his silence. Which apparently was a good thing noting Herve carefully shake his head back at him.

Disappointed, Eytinge tried something else. “How long have you been working for him?”

“About a month” D’Artagnan had the bad luck to have been saddled with someone wanting to chat along the way.

“Then you should have met Lazare and Chausse by now.” Chuckling, Eytinge moved his mount closer to the boy’s. “Somehow those two always talk me into going gaming with them whenever I find myself at the Baron’s estate.” A rueful shake of his head indicated that it hadn’t been a good idea. “Usually I end up losing my purse.” Still the kid only listened to him and offered up not one opinion.

Glancing over at Herve, d’Artagnan noted the older man merely shrug in return. He took that to mean that his companion had no idea whom the other two men were that Eytinge was going on about. Knowing that the voleur was expecting some response, one way or the other, d’Artagnan dived in. “Oui, I have. Tis just that I’ve been concentrating upon doing my job and haven’t mingled much with many of the men.”

“Be careful that they don’t rope you into going with them,” offered Eytinge with a quick wink. “Chausse cheats and Lazare’s not much better.”

Eytinge’s coarse laughter began to grate upon d’Artagnan’s ears. Wishing the voleur would simply shut it, he pulled harder upon Zad’s reins than he had meant to. When his horse turned its head to look back at him, d’Artagnan winced. In apology he ran his free hand up and down Zad’s long flowing mane, adding a few gentle pats along the way.

When the cocking of a pistol close to his temple sounded, d’Artagtnan stopped his horse. Slowly turning his head he ended up staring into Eytinge’s furious face and that's when d'Artagnan realized his mistake.

“So you met them,” spat Eytinge. “They work for _me_ not the Baron.” Motioning with his weapon for both the kid and the older one to dismount he then followed suit. Grabbing the youngster by his shirt, Eytinge threw the boy up hard against an oak tree.

Dazed, literally seeing stars before his eyes, d’Artagnan slid down to the ground cradling his aching head. Disoriented and disarmed, since Eytinge removed his weapons belt, d’Artagnan could barely lift his head up.

Listening to pleading for both of their lives, d’Artagnan tried to come to Herve's rescue. Sadly, he couldn’t even stand upon his own two feet. Everything wavered in front of him. If d’Artagnan hadn’t known better, he would have sworn that he’d suffered a minor concussion. Oh and wasn’t that just grand?

Upon his distress, d’Artagnan imagined his parrains gently chiding him for his predicament. His papa would have chimed in as well, taking him to task for the blunder he had made. It was moot now, but d’Artagnan wished he had done things differently. While thinking upon his dire situation, suddenly he heard simultaneous shots being fired which made him jerk back his head in reaction. Bad move as it had made his poor head ache fiercely. But the feel of powerful hoofbeats shaking the ground that d'Artagnan sat upon more than made up for how miserable he was.

Upon recognizing the voices yelling out at them, it filled d'Artagnan with blessed relief. However it was short lived, when Eytinge began returning fire. Knowing he was going to regret this d'Artagnan shakily stood up, leaning against the rough tree bark. His brothers were targeting Eytinge and rightly so, but he realized that the voleur may not come out of this alive. That couldn't happen. " _NON!_ " he shouted to his friends. " _I NEED HIM ALIVE!_ " Hoping the inseparables had heard him over the volley of shots, d'Artagnan collapsed back to the ground.

Jumping off of Roulette, Porthos tackled the man who had been shooting at them. Throwing a heavy punch at the man's jaw, he knocked him out with one blow. Gaining his feet, Porthos glared at the whelp. " _What in 'ell 'ave ya gottin' yourself into?_ "

"Porthos..." Shaking a warning finger at the larger man, Aramis strode over to kneel beside their youngest. "Can't you tell that the lad must be wounded?"

"How is he?" bit out Athos. His steely blue eyes zeroed in upon the stranger, with a look that did not bode well for the man.

"Pup's developing a nice goose egg at the back of his head." Clucking his tongue upon finding broken skin there which was bleeding freely, Aramis went to his saddlebags for the healing salve d'Artagnan had graciously shared the recipe for.

While Aramis was tending the lad, it was left up to Athos and Porthos to get their explanation from d'Artagnan's other traveling companion. When Herve told them all, including the plan the boy had come up with upon meeting Eytinge, Athos was ready to explode.

"We are not far from the city. Since Aramis is occupied taking care of our pup, Porthos I want you to inform Treville what is going on." Noting the boy leaning his forehead upon the marksman's shoulder, Athos sighed. "It does not appear that we are going anywhere for the moment."

"Kid gonna be all right, Mis?" Porthos needed to know that before he left them.

"A slight concussion but he hasn't thrown up which is a good sign." Leaning the young Gascon back against the tree Aramis gently took the lad's chin in his hand. Checking d'Artagnan's pupils he added, "I believe it would not be in his best interests to ride by himself though."

"Whether or not d'Artagnan likes it he will ride in front with me." Athos' raised brow dared anyone to say otherwise.

Humming softly to himself Aramis knew that would be his friend's reaction and one of the reasons he had made a point of suggesting it. If d'Artagnan had put up a fuss, it certainly would have been a precarious prospect for the lad to ride solo.

With a last look at his brothers Porthos said, "I'll be as quick as I can." Already mounted upon his horse he needed to vent his feelings upon Eytinge. " _SCUM_!" he snarled. Spitting at the voleur's feet, Porthos sneered at the man. "In case you're wonderin'... I'm not insultin' ya. I'm just describin' ya." Wheeling Roulette around, he took the path back that they had traveled upon.

++++

_Garrison_

Upon the retelling of events that led to his filleul's minor concussion, Treville was more than shocked. Roaring out his anger, he slammed his fist down upon his desk making Porthos jump back a pace or two. " _Mon Dieu!_ I can't let that boy out of my sight!"

The strange outburst from his captain made Porthos curious. To him it sounded as if his commander was overly familiar with the whelp's ways. He'd discuss this interesting tidbit with Athos and Aramis later, knowing they'd find it odd as well.

"You will take six men back with you that is non-negotiable." Huffing out his annoyance, with both d'Artagnan and Armand, Treville grabbed his chapeau from the rack and practically shoved Porthos out the door. As they both went down to the courtyard, Treville thought back to about an hour ago. He had been premature upon thinking that today turned out to be peaceful for once.

++++

Riding back to the spot he had left everyone Porthos noted Athos' steady gaze rest upon the other soldiers he had brought along. "Treville's orders," was all that needed said.

Waving his friend's words away, Athos waited for Aramis to bring the pup over. Observing d'Artagnan teetering first to the left and then to the right, Athos grimaced. Apparently getting the boy upon Roger's back was going to be an undertaking.

Helping the lad carefully to his feet Aramis guided d'Artagnan over to where Roger patiently, and his brother impatiently, waited. Working together Aramis lifted the lad upward while Athos leaned down to pull the youth up in front of him.

Settling the boy against his chest, Athos reached for Roger's reins. Glancing over his shoulder, he raised a hand in the air signalling for the men to move out. Staring at the head lolling upon his shoulder, Athos resigned himself to the fact that his life was never going to be the same. "Why do I have the feeling you are going to be a great deal of trouble to keep from harm?" Once his words were released, a heartfelt sigh escaped him.

Athos was one to talk though. Until this child had come along, all he had ever wanted to do was lose himself in the bottom of a bottle. Now, bien, now Athos had taken charge of this young one. Busy with training recruits, along with finding himself saddled with a protégé that Athos had not asked for, it now left him with little leisure time to get drunk. Alas, some sacrifices must be made for the greater good of all or should he say for the greater good of one lad from Gascony.

When d’Artagnan began to stir, the lad began muttering. Athos tilted his head slightly toward the boy’s, so that he would be able to make out the words. When the Gascon’s voice grew stronger, what had come out of d’Artagnan’s mouth made Athos chuckle lightly.

“When I was growing up mes parrains were forever scolding me about how much trouble I was.” Eyes slowly blinking open, with a slight turn of his head, d’Artagnan stared into the amused blue eyes of his mentor. When a pain in the back of his head made itself known, he went to touch it but found instead that his hand was neatly captured by Athos’ own.

With a negative shake of his head, Athos warned the pup. “I would not do that if I were you. Quite a lump has formed there and it looks rather painful.” When the child shifted his body slightly, Athos adjusted his own seat. “It would appear I have much in common with your parrains. Did your parents feel the same way?”

“Papa put it down to growing pains but maman was forever losing her temper and boxing my ears.” Athos’ hearty laughter was unexpected and not appreciated, especially when d’Artagnan wasn’t able to defend himself properly. “Not amusing, Athos.” Pouting, he tried to play on the older man’s sympathies. “I have a headache. Be quiet do.”

Doing as ordered, Athos’ attention turned to Eytinge. The man’s hands were tightly bound to the pommel of the saddle. Knowing the voleur wasn’t going anywhere, other than with them, Athos’ worries turned to what he would find when arriving in Courbevoie.

++++

_Courbevoie – Monseigneur Patenaude’s residence_

Emerson and Archer had kept vigil outside waiting for d’Artagnan’s return. When spotting at least nine Musketeers riding in their direction, they didn’t know what to think. The boy and Herve were only to have brought back Eytinge not part of the Garrison’s men. Making haste they both re-entered the house to inform Monseigneur and Cardinal Richelieu.

++++

“What the deuce goes on with that boy? He’s supposed to do one thing and then ends up doing the complete opposite.” His mini tirade brought about a puzzled look from Maurille. It made Armand realize his words were spoken out loud. Spreading his arms out wide, he tried to explain. “Things tend to happen around my filleul. Not always good things either to my regret.”

A smile tugged about Maurille’s lips. “I remember when we were younger saying that exact same thing in regards to you, mon ami.”

Disregarding his friend’s reminder, of his past youthful escapades, Armand couldn’t wait to hear all the particulars from d’Artagnan. So when the boy came inside looking pale as death Armand was taken aback. So much so that he missed the Musketeer Athos supporting the lad.

Stepping forward, Maurille sized up the situation at once. Offering help, between himself and the soldier they managed to get the youngster seated upon the empty sofa before d’Artagnan fell flat upon his face.

“Is he ill or has he been injured in some way?” questioned Richelieu. He hated being kept in the dark about anything.

“A hard knock to the back of his head,” was Athos’ clipped response. “Compliments of Eythinge.”

Forgetting those around them, Armand immediately went over to his filleul. Placing a hand upon the lad’s one shoulder, he leaned down to gaze into d’Artagnan’s eyes. Keeping his voice low enough for only the boy to hear, his voice grew gruff. “You’ve gotten the job done at the expense of your skull I see. You never do anything by half measures, child.”

“Don’t tell Uncle Jean-Armand,” pleaded d’Artagnan closing his eyes briefly against the headache he had been dealing with.

"I won't make promises I may not keep," softly retorted Armand. Lightly patting d'Artagnan's shoulder, he straightened back up. "Remember, lad, small deeds done are better than great deeds planned." Looking about the room, his gaze rested upon Athos speaking with Maurille. Turning back to his filleul Armand brushed some errant strands of hair away from boy's eyes. "You did well. I would have felt better about it if you hadn't gotten hurt but life happens."

"Sure doesn't feel like a _small deed_ from my perspective." Noting amused dancing eyes staring back at him, d'Artagnan had a childish urge to stick out his tongue. Instead he simply waved his parrain away.

++++

Off to one side, speaking with Monseigneur, Athos' eyes narrowed upon the cardinal with his protégé. That same nagging feeling he had had before came back to him. Things were not adding up. He had never seen Cardinal Richelieu so caring with any individual. As a rule, Athos avoided the First Minister as much as was possible. Not that His Eminence was not a good man, but Athos detested most of the Red Guard. Richelieu's soldiers were always giving the Musketeers grief over anything and everything. Giving his attention back to what the Monseigneur had been speaking about, he listened attentively until the cardinal made his approach.

"Care to explain to me how d'Artagnan received his injury?" It was a moot point now but Richelieu wanted to hear how it happened anyway.

Knowing a demand when he heard one, Athos went on to tell His Eminence what he and his brothers had happened upon back in the city. Then Athos went on to say why they followed the boy and how they ended up aiding d'Artagnan in the process. He also included Herve's input upon how things turned ugly with Eytinge. Athos hoped his words satisfied the cardinal but anything else he would have offered further was silenced upon hearing Cardinal Richelieu quietly cursing under his breath.

Now what in the world had the First Minister meant by saying that d'Artagnan and trouble always went hand-in-hand? It was a mystery that Athos meant to eventually solve. For the moment though, his attention was caught by Porthos pushing Eytinge inside the house. There was a minor struggle but his larger brother had things well in hand.

Upon the sight of the voleur, Richelieu's eyes widened. He then understood why d'Artagnan had tried for a more peaceable solution at first. Walking forward he stopped directly in front of the giant. Clasping his hands behind his back, Richelieu tapped a foot impatiently upon the floor. "Do you know who I am?" A shrug of one shoulder indicated to him that Eytinge had no idea. Pressing on he said, "I'm Cardinal Richelieu." His announcement had a visible effect, when noting all the color leech away from the voleur's features. "Now that I have introduced myself and have gained your attention... we shall get down to business."

++++

_Notes:_

_Voleur_ – thief  
_Parrains_ – godfathers  
_Mes parrains_ – my godfathers  
_Filleul_ – godson  
_Monseigneur_ – French for Monsignor meaning *My Lord*.

 _Quote - "I'm not insulting you. I'm just describing you."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote - "Small deeds done are better than great deeds planned."_ \- from Peter Marshall. Peter Marshall (May,1902 – January 26,1949) was a Scots-American preacher, pastor of the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church in Washington, DC and was appointed as Chaplain of the United States Senate.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To everyone that celebrates the season have a blessed and happy Easter!
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Last we saw… Cardinal Richelieu was about to get into Eytinge’s face_

The main room was beginning to feel overly crowded. For now the other Musketeers, that had accompanied the inseparables, had gathered around His Eminence to form a protective circle.

Giving Eytinge his most deadliest stare, Richelieu went nose to nose with the voleur. “The land grants that are now in possession of La Martiniere…” Pausing to poke Eytinge in the chest, Richelieu growled low in his throat. “I understand that you had forged them.” Not one word was uttered by the other man. Pressing on, Richelieu urged him. “I want you to admit it to me.”

Turning his back upon Eytinge, Richelieu’s next words still carried impact. “Lest I remind you that there are few choices left for you. If I don’t receive your confession I will have to condemn you to death… either by the noose or,” he gave an almost cat-like purr upon his next words, “last I heard it has been some time since our last beheading.” Noting Eytinge turn a sickly shade of green, Richelieu was not surprised by the voleur’s speedy response. In actuality he had no reason to order the man's death but what Eytinge didn't know wouldn't hurt him... at least not by much.

“What happens if I do?” Trying not to appear shaken, though it was probably obvious to all of them, Eytinge willed his legs to stop trembling like a new poulain.

“The worst for you would be a lengthy stay in the Bastille.” Motioning for Athos to hand him a sheet of paper and pen Richelieu shoved them into the voleur’s nervous fingers. “Now make your confession in writing and sign it.”

A few minutes passed, until Eytinge had finished giving the cardinal what he had wanted. But it had come with a warning. “Even having that the Baron won’t back down easily.”

An eyebrow shot up, lips pressed firmly together, Richelieu’s gaze connected first with his old friend then roamed around the room. “I beg to differ with you. When La Martiniere is confronted by the king’s own Musketeer force I believe he'll capitulate without much blood being shed.”

A slow smirk spread quickly over Eytinge’s features. “Then you may be in for a surprise.”

Tapping his chin, Richelieu replied, “Or not.” Crooking a finger at Porthos, he indicated for the big soldier to take care of the voleur. “Make sure he’s well secured.” Waving the piece of paper in the air, that contained Eytinge’s confession, he smiled. “I will be presenting both to His Majesty personally.”

“Along with the Baron,” added d’Artagnan, from his position still upon the chair, while being fussed over by Aramis.

“Athos, you may take your men over to La Martiniere’s estate and present him with the charges against him. Then you may place the Baron under arrest.” Going over to the lieutenant, Richelieu added, “Then bring him to me immediately.”

“If there is a fight then what?” questioned Athos, knowing it was not going to be as simple as that. It never was, in his opinion.

Staring at the Musketeer, Richelieu smirked. “Then it won’t be _immediately_ now would it?” Listening to Athos barking out orders to the other soldiers, Richelieu went to stand near d’Artagnan’s side. Observing his filleul slapping the marksman’s hands away, he tried not to laugh at the picture the two of them presented. “Aramis, go with the rest of them. I’ll see to whatever else the boy needs.”

Finding the cardinal’s words a strange surprise, Aramis didn’t question them but did as ordered.

With barely a glance at Eytinge, Richelieu dryly remarked, “Porthos go join the others. I doubt our voleur's going anywhere for awhile.”

Grunting out his uncertainty, Porthos' last look took in the criminal trussed up like one of Serge's chickens ready for beheading in preparation for dinner. Taking that happy thought with him, Porthos went to join his brothers-in-arms.

++++

_Georges de la Martiniere's Estate_

Informed by his men that there were Musketeers waiting to speak with him, Martiniere permitted their lieutenant entrance. As the leader came in, he had a feeling this wasn't going to be a friendly visit.

"Baron de la Martiniere," announced Athos, "by orders of Cardinal Richelieu I place you under arrest."

"What mockery of justice is this? I have done not a thing wrong!" Staring into the hard blue eyes of the officer before him, Martiniere was the first to look away.

"Not from our perspective, Monsieur." Turning around, Athos called out several names of his own men. " _Blanc! Lecuyer! Fulk!... to me!_ " When the soldiers presented themselves, he observed them taking the Baron into custody.

"Am I not to be told what the charges against me are?"

"Cardinal Richelieu will tell you that shortly." Observing Martiniere struggling against his men, Athos led the way back outside. Clearing the exit he could tell that many of the Baron's men wanted to retaliate but did not know how to proceed. The weight of His Eminence's name usually carried fear into the heart's of many. Still the soldiers under Athos' command were ready for any signs of trouble.

++++

_Approaching Monseigneur Patenaude's residence once more_

"I thought I was to be taken to Paris to be brought before the cardinal." Martiniere was more than confused at this point.

"A slight detour is called for." Taking pleasure at the Baron's circumstances, Athos dismounted as did his men. "Jetter... Adolphus, help him down since he does not have the use of his hands." Tying Martiniere's wrists together insured that the man did not get away from them. Even if the Baron was one of the nobility it didn't mean that he wouldn't try to escape.

With a hand against Martiniere's back, Athos prodded the man past the open door. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. So the look upon the Baron's face when confronted with Cardinal Richelieu, and realizing at the same time that His Eminence had been practically next door to his own estate, was nearly worth d'Artagnan suffering that minor concussion.

Instantly dropping to his knees before the cardinal, Martiniere bowed his head. "Your Grace, why is it that I find myself in your presence?" In answer, a piece of paper was thrust under his nose which he was allowed to reach for. After quickly perusing it, his eyes slid over to encounter those of Eytinge. The voleur was tied to a chair and gagged on top of that. Martiniere was far from stupid. Knowing what the presence of Eytinge meant, he turned his gaze back upon Cardinal Richelieu. "Whatever lies that man told you don't believe them!"

"Then you acknowledge knowing this one?" Richelieu's eyes remained locked upon the Baron's own. Eyes were known to be windows to one's soul. He had always believed that, fanciful though it sounded. What Richelieu had briefly glimpsed in Martiniere's told him everything he had needed to know.

Lying again, Martiniere tried to worm his way out of this. "Eytinge used to work for me. That much is true. After I caught him stealing from me I sent him packing." Stabbing the voleur with a violent look, Martiniere spat,"That man would sell his own mother for a single sou!"

"Unfortunately for you," drawled Richelieu, "the men under your employ have big mouths. The people you were about to steal their livelihoods from have heard them speak freely about how Eytinge forged those land grants." Watching the Baron's eyes nearly pop out of his head, Richelieu almost laughed but settled for a brief cough instead. "His signed confession and their word are more than good enough for me and I'm sure would be for King Louis as well."

"Also a few of your men, Baron, have stepped forward to add weight to your ties to Eytinge." Pleased to note Martiniere's mouth gape open and close, like a fish out of water, Athos' eyes shifted to his protégé. The boy's color was finally returning to normal. Though that did not make Athos feel charitable toward the one that caused the pup's injury in the first place.

"Athos, take him to the Bastille for now and let him stew there for a time until I return to Paris and inform His Majesty all that's taken place. I want to make an example of him so other highborn nobles don't take it into their heads to try something of this nature." Satisfied that justice would be served for the people that lived here, Richelieu carelessly waved a hand for the lieutenant to depart.

"What of you and d'Artagnan?" asked Aramis. He hadn't left the lad's side, since they had arrived.

"We shall both remain here as my friend and I haven't had a proper visit yet." Glancing at his filleul, Richelieu frowned. Perhaps he shouldn't have spoken for the boy. "D'Artagnan, do you want to go back with them?" A minute shake of the youngster's head told Richelieu that the lad wanted to stay with him.

Before Martiniere was dragged off by the soldiers, he urgently tried one last time to reason with His Eminence. "But you don't see, Cardinal..." Abruptly he was cut off from further pleading, when Richelieu's hand abruptly chopped through the air.

"There are many things that can be seen only through the eyes that have cried," retorted Richelieu. "And believe me I have shed many tears in my lifetime." Stabbing a finger in the air directly the Baron's way, he nearly snarled out the rest of his words. "I saw through you the minute your mouth opened!" Disgusted, Richelieu turned his back on him. "Now, Athos, get him out of my sight!"

"Anyone care for a glass of wine," offered up Maurille after all the soldiers had left. "I have a feeling all of us could use one."

"I certainly could." With a look at d'Artagnan, Armand wasn't so sure the boy should have anything quite yet. "What of you, child?"

Feeling much better now, d'Artagnan smiled up at him. "Perhaps just half a glass." After his mentor had left, the door hadn't completely closed. When sounds of Porthos' rough laughter could be heard, d'Artagnan became curious.  "Wonder what set Porthos off."

Twas only a minute later, when Porthos' massive bulk pushed the door all the way open and grinned at d'Artagnan. "Forgot ta say I'd see ya later, whelp."

"What was so amusing out there?" Taking a sip of his drink d'Artagnan noted a devilish look come and go quickly from his larger friend's swarthy features.

"Baron gave me some lip and I told 'im ta look after 'is eyes because they were the only balls 'e 'ad." Coming over to where the kid sat Porthos ruffled d'Artagnan's hair before departing again. It pleased him to listen to everyone's laughter following him out the door.

Swiping at his tears, d'Artagnan's amusement finally died down. "I have to hand it to Porthos," he shook his head. "He always knows exactly what to say to break the tension."

"Oui," agreed Armand, with a nod of his head. "Your friend does have a certain way of turning a phrase."

"Constance gave me some advice once in case anyone hassled me." Giving the two older men an innocent look, d'Artagnan filled them in. "She said that if someone throws a stone at me, throw a flower back at them. Just make sure it's still in the plant pot."

"Doesn't quite measure up to what Porthos just shared with us." Chuckling, Armand finished his wine. Dark eyes twinkling, he added, "But tis close enough."

Murille patted d'Artagnan's shoulder. "Laughter is good for the soul. I've always believed that joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God."

"If that's the case, mon ami, between Porthos' colorful words and Constance's amusing advice we must be surrounded by God's light and should bask in it for as long as it lasts." Heading for Maurille's desk Armand picked up the documents that had brought him to his friend's place to begin with. When a heavy sigh reached his ears, his attention turned back to his filleul.

Noting his parrain's look of concern, d'Artagnan grimaced. "I was just thinking that perhaps I'm not Musketeer material after all. Look at the mess I made with getting Eytinge back here."

"Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will, child." Armand didn't want those type of thoughts floating around in the lad's head. The youth had been trained well by Alexandre, Jean-Armand and himself. All of them had high expectations. Armand wouldn't see them dashed because of d'Artagnan's latest brush with trouble.

"Don't you ever have them, Uncle?"

"My life may not be going the way I planned it at times but tis going exactly the way God planned it." Looking down at his filleul, Armand noted a change of expression. "Besides if I constantly doubted myself I'd never get anything accomplished and that certainly wouldn't do."

"Oui, I see it all now," put in d'Artagnan, his eyes sparkling merrily, "France would probably fall in ruins around King Louis if that were to happen."

"Cheeky brat." But, even in jest, Armand had to admit the lad made a valid point.

"Only Athos is allowed to call me that." His mind put at ease, for the moment at least, d'Artagnan began to relax. Now if only the ache in his skull would go away.

++++

_Notes:_

_Voleur_ – thief  
_Poulain_ – foal or colt  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Monseigneur_ \- French for Monsignor meaning 'My Lord' (once again I thank FierGascon's latest French lesson as I corrected the spelling for Monseigneur)  
_Parrain_ \- godfather

 _Quote: "There are many things that can be seen only through the eyes that have cried."_ \- from Saint Oscar Romero. Saint Óscar Arnulfo Romero y Galdámez (15 August 1917 – 24 March 1980) was a prelate of the Catholic Church in El Salvador who served as the fourth Archbishop of San Salvador. He spoke out against poverty, social injustice, assassinations, and torture.

 _Quote: "I told him to look after his eyes because they were the only balls he had."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "If someone throws a stone at you, throw a flower back at them. Just make sure it's still in the plant pot."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God."_ from Pierre Teilard de Chardin (May 1881 – 10 April 1955) was a French idealist philosopher and Jesuit priest who trained as a paleontologist and geologist and took part in the discovery of Peking Man.

 _Quote: "Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will."_ \- Scripture quotes from pinterest.com.

 _Quote: "My life may not be going the way I planned but it is going exactly the way God planned it."_ \- Scripture quotes from pinterest.com.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, later in the afternoon - the Bastille_

Having dispersed his squad of soldiers, Athos strode away from the Bastille where he had gladly handed over both Eytinge and La Martiniere. Happy to be done with them, he looked at his two companions. Their long faces reflected how he himself felt.

“Wished d’Artagnan had come back with us.” Even though the boy appeared none the worse for wear, after the lad’s ordeal, Aramis would have been much happier with the young Gascon under his watchful eye.

“Yeah,” grumbled a disquieted Porthos. “The cardinal won’t know the signs if’n the whelp starts feeling poorly.”

“Somehow I am beginning to doubt that very much,” offered Aramis, with a sideways glance at each of his friends. “Strange though it may sound, His Eminence left me with the impression that he knew how to care for our pup.” Removing his chapeau he scratched at an imaginary itch on the back of his head, just to keep his hands busy.

“Captin’ too.” Shooting an odd look at his brothers, Porthos shared his experience when he had first gone back to report events to their commanding officer. “Last time I saw ‘im that mad was when Ackart left King Louis’ detail ta go chasin’ after one of the king’s hounds that took it into its head ta go racin' after a rabbit on that last hunt we drew duty for.”

“You really couldn’t blame Ackart,” said Aramis. “After all he was only following His Majesty’s orders.”

"Ya can't blame the rabbit either for bein' in the wrong place at the wrong time," countered Porthos.

“Be that as it may,” rolling his eyes, Athos smirked, “Ackart was our monarch’s personal body guard and should have stayed put.” Waving his hand in the air, Athos’ lips pressed together. “But we digress.”

“Is it crazy ta think that both the captin’ and the cardinal ‘ave prior knowledge of the whelp?”

“Perhaps more than that, Porthos.” Mounting Roger, Athos waited for the others to do the same. “For their own reasons they have deemed it best to keep it a secret.”

“Then we should not question it and let it be for now.” Not liking it any better, Aramis shrugged a shoulder and splayed out his hands. "We all have our own secrets... do we not?"

“I hate secrets,” murmured Athos. “They always tend to come back and bite you in the ass when you least expect it.” Urging his horse forward, he sighed. “I need a drink.”

“ _Ah!_ ” exclaimed Aramis joyously, holding up a finger. “But not before we report to Captain Treville, mon frere.”

Grimacing, Athos raised a lone brow. “Was afraid you would say that.” Tugging on the reins for Roger to move faster, he figured the sooner he could inform Treville the sooner he could have that wine that was waiting for him.

++++

_Garrison – Captain Treville’s office_

Drumming his fingers impatiently upon the top of his desk, Treville stared up into the nearly blank faces of his three best men. Sometimes he found himself wondering what they were actually _best_ at. The longer he looked at the inseparables, Treville noted that their features weren’t quite devoid of expression as he had first believed.

They all had t _ells_ which normally Treville could read like a book. A twitch near Porthos’ mouth told him that the soldier wanted to say something but held himself back. As did the tilt of Aramis’ head. As for his lieutenant… bien, Athos had always been a hard man to read at the best of times. Somehow though Treville usually managed to figure out what was bothering the younger man.

“At least no one got hurt but d’Artagnan,” grimly ground out Treville, trying not to put too much emotion behind his words but he may have failed in doing so, judging by the three winces that accompanied his words. He had to be more careful how he reacted for it wouldn’t do to slip up. “As the cardinal and d’Artagnan remained behind did Richelieu bother to say if they were coming back tonight?”

“I gained the impression that His Eminence would be returning to the city within a few hours as he told Aramis that his business had yet to conclude with Monseigneur Patenaude.” Athos would still have felt better if the boy had come with them. It seemed that d’Artagnan attracted trouble, like flies to honey.

“Since Cardinal Richelieu is personally going to handle this matter I will not interfere.” Reaching for some papers scattered over his desk, Treville began to sort them. When lifting his head up, he frowned. “Still here?”

Each inseparable looked at the other. Puzzled expressions covered their features.

“Were we dismissed, sir?” casually asked Aramis with a hard nudge to his side from Athos.

“Since when do you three not know when I am through with you…mmmmm?”

“I suggest we depart.” Slapping his chapeau back upon his head, Athos was the first to exit the room before the captain changed his mind and gave them some other God awful duty.

++++

_Several hours later - Monseigneur Patenaude's residence_

Satisfied that everything was as it should be, over everything Armand had discussed with his old friend, he was ready to leave. Except it appeared Maurille had other ideas and had extended an invitation to have dinner with him. “Mon ami, I would have loved nothing better but the nasty business with the Baron has delayed my return back to the city.” Glancing out the window, Armand noted the darkening skies. “I don’t want to lose the light of day traveling back either.”

"You and the boy are more than welcome to spend the night here as well, Armand."

"My thanks but I want this messy affair involving La Martiniere over and done with." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Armand continued. "God alone knows I have other weighty matters to contend with other than dealing with nobles having delusions of grandeur."

"Très bien," sighed Maurille. "Perhaps next time things would not be so unsettled when you visit with me."

Crossing himself, Armand smiled. "I pray it would be so as well."

"I'm sorry that I didn't get to know you better, d'Artagnan." Clasping a hand tightly upon the younger man's shoulder Maurille gave it a gentle shake. "Armand kindly warned me to not say a word about your famille connection. At least not until he informs me the cat's out of the bag so to speak."

"Next time Uncle Armand comes to see you I might be free to join him and get to know you better too."

"I shall look forward to it, lad." Seeing the boy and Armand to their carriage Maurille waved at them when it pulled away. "Au revoir, mes amis."

++++

_En route to Paris_

"How's the head feeling?" Taking out the documents Maurille had given him Armand sifted through them once more looking for a particular section. Still, he kept one eye upon his filleul why he did so.

Wincing as he gingerly touched the back of his head, d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "Still attached."

Amused, Armand's lips curled upward. "I will make sure Jean-Armand gives you the day off upon the morrow."

Huffing, d'Artagnan crossed his arms. "I'm certainly not going to let a bump to my head keep me from my training."

"Something tells me that your three friends are going to share the same opinion upon the matter as I do." Going back to his papers Armand smiled again when d'Artagnan's snort filled the carriage.

++++

_Early eve, Paris - The Bonacieux's residence_

Quietly entering the house, d'Artagnan had hoped to escape to his room sight unseen. He didn't want to worry the couple over his minor brush with trouble again. Plus if d'Artagnan thought Aramis was overly fussy, when dealing with an injury, Constance would beat the marksman hands down when it came to that very same thing. Creeping slowly toward the staircase he came to a sudden halt upon the sounds of voices. It sounded like poor Jacques was on the receiving end of an angered Constance.

" _Pfft!_ " Muttering under her breath Constance's voice then grew louder. "Home is where you can say anything you want because _nobody_ ," she shot a dark look at her husband, "listens to you anyway."

"Mon coeur, I didn't mean to forget stopping at the butchers." With a finger in one ear, Jacques winced. It had done nothing to block the sounds of his wife's displeasure.

Shaking a finger at him, Constance's frown deepened. "I love you even more than I'm annoyed with you, Jacques, and that's a lot at the moment." She left him then and headed for the sanctuary of her sewing room.

Having spied d'Artagnan's lean figure hovering just outside the main room, Jacques walked over to the boy. Noting a smirk gracing the young Gascon's face, Jacques quirked a brow in question.

"Maman and papa had their own ups and downs." D'Artagnan smiled at the memory his words dredged up and decided to share it with the older man. "Papa once told me that her nagging was a sign she cared and her silence meant run, run for your life."

With a rueful shake of his head, Jacques chuckled upon the picture the lad's words had painted. "Guess I'm lucky then, eh?" It was then he noted the youngster wincing in pain. Reaching a hand out to him, he was startled when d'Artagnan backed away. Frowning, Jacques asked, "Are you hurt?"

"Non," d'Artagnan shook his head. "Tis nothing. Some bed rest and I'll be fine." Pointing toward the area where Constance had gone, he grinned. "Seems to me that you're the one that may be in for some pain later."

"Er, oui, I am rather in the dog house for forgetting to purchase the roast Constance had wanted." Looking at d'Artagnan, he tried to explain his lapse. "I had been mulling over how many bolts of material to order for my next commission and had completely forgotten to do what she had wanted." A hopeful look entered Jacque's eyes, when an idea came to him. "Perhaps flowers would soften her heart toward me."

"Aramis told me once that flowers say - I'm sorry and that jewelry says - I've learned my lesson."

"Jewelry is a bit above me right now. I think I'll stick with getting her a bouquet in way of apology." A sharp look at the lad, accompanied by a wry smile, Jacques added, "Believe me, d'Artagnan, I've definitely learned my lesson." At the boy's chortle, he too joined along. When a huge yawn nearly split the young Gascon's face, Jacques gently pushed him toward the staircase. "Bonne nuit."

Once d'Artagnan had disappeared twas then that Constance made her presence known again. "Was that d'Artagnan I heard?"

"Oui but I made him go straight to bed as he appeared quite worn out." Having gotten the impression that d'Artagnan didn't need his wife hovering over him, for what probably amounted to a minor wound, Jacques kept silent upon what he could only guess had caused it.

"I s'pose I'll see him in the morn at breakfast." Then surprising her husband Constance leaned in to give him a lingering kiss upon the mouth.

Eyes wide open in stunned surprise, since moments ago she was furious with him, Jacques couldn’t help but ask, “You’re not still upset with me then?”

“Oui… I am.” Turning right around she flounced off.

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Jacques watched her go back to the sewing room. “I wonder if other husbands find themselves confused by their wives.” Reflecting on that, he went to join her.

++++

_Next day, mid morn – Royal Palace, King Louis’ chambers_

“I understand the charges against La Martiniere and am totally in agreement with you, Cardinal.” King Louis stared at His Eminence curiously. “Do you want him moved to the Chatelet then?”

“Oui. Let him think upon the unwise choices he has made, Sire.” Standing beside the young monarch, Richelieu noted the king’s eyes danced wickedly and wondered at.

“I heard young d’Artagnan was hurt carrying out your orders.” Chuckling, King Louis cocked his head to the side studying the various expressions flitting over the cardinal’s features. “Perhaps I should reprimand you this time, Your Grace.”

Lips twitching, Richelieu simply nodded his head. “I believe you should first _reprimand_ yourself, Sire.”

“Ah! I see,” humming pleasantly, King Louis was enjoying their witty repartee. “You’re not above hitting below the belt I see.”

“Anyway the injury amounted to a minor knock to the back of that Gascon’s hard skull.”

King Louis’ rich laughter filled the chamber for a few minutes. Then he asked His Eminence another question. “I gather preparations should be started for a very public example of the Baron’s position?”

“It should prove as a warning to the rest of the noble hierarchy.” Tapping his chin, Richelieu smiled slyly. “Wouldn’t you say so, Your Majesty?”

Not bothering to answer such an obvious question, King Louis said, “I do know of a few noblemen that could do with a warning or two of their shaky positions with me.” Humming softly, King Louis was pleased to have an excuse to shake up those men as well and bring them both down a few pegs. “By the way what is young d’Artagnan doing today?”

“Resting I hope. I had made a brief stop at the Garrison to speak with Jean-Armand personally and asked him to give our filleul the day off.”

“I very much doubt that boy is going to stay at home.” Grinning, King Louis gave the cardinal a sly look of his own. “Right now I bet the lad’s already presented himself at the Garrison courtyard trying his best to challenge anyone he could snag into some swordplay.”

“He better not be,” snapped Richelieu. “Mmmmm, perhaps I should go back to check upon the child.”

Airily waving a hand, King Louis sent His Eminence a sharp look. “Think twice about that, Cardinal. You’d have tongues wagging over your interest in our young Gascon.”

Knowing that the king was correct, Richelieu stroked his goatee while hoping that d’Artagnan was using some common sense.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

“Don’t you think some common sense is called for, d’Artagnan?” asked Aramis, wincing when the lad was laid flat from a throw by Porthos. Even though their gentle giant was using kid gloves with the pup, Aramis still worried over that injury to the youngster’s head.

“ _I’M FINE!_ ” yelled out d’Artagnan to his mother hen.

“Mmmmm.” Shaking his head, Aramis wasn’t so sure and let his feelings known. “Oui, I can see that from your lofty position upon the ground.”

Pulling a face, d’Artagnan hefted himself back up with some help from Porthos. “I want to try that again.”

“ _NON, YOU WILL NOT!_ ” Placing himself directly between his protégé and Porthos, Athos glared at the pup. “I am away for only ten minutes… _TEN MINUTES_ , mind you,” he emphasized for good measure, “and what do I find? _YOU_ ,” Athos stabbed a finger in d’Artagnan’s face, “ _trying to finish what Eytinge started!_ ”

“I’m…” cut off from defending himself, when his mentor’s icy stare tore through him, d’Artagnan suddenly found his dusty boots of major interest.

“Do not tell me you are _fine_ one more time!” Frustrated with the boy’s stubbornness, Athos placed both hands upon d’Artagnan’s slim shoulders. Giving them a firm shake, he waited for the pup to lift his head back up. When the lad still wouldn’t look him in the eye, Athos tilted d’Artagnan’s chin up. “Am I getting through to you at all?”

“I’ll go crazy if I can’t do anything today, Athos,” admitted d’Artagnan quite reluctantly.

“Oh I am sure there are plenty of weapons that need cleaning back in the armory,” suggested Aramis, throwing a grin over his shoulder at Porthos.

“Yeah, whelp.” Porthos hadn’t been all that keen to go along with the kid wanting to practice hand-to-hand right after the pup’s noggin took a thumping. But those liquid brown, puppy dog eyes had did him in, melting away Porthos’ resolve. So here he stood upon the receiving end now of a scowl so deep Porthos feared that it would become permanently etched upon Athos’ face. Holding up both hands in mock surrender, he only uttered two words in self-defence. “ _Puppy eyes_.”

Rolling his own eyes, Athos threw both hands into the air and marched away. Before taking his leave, he shouted to Aramis. “ _KEEP HIM BUSY OR ELSE!_ ”

“Oh I’m shaking in my boots, Athos,” grumbled Aramis while pushing himself up from the bench he sat upon. Walking over to where d’Artagnan still stood he slapped the young Gascon’s back. Steering the lad toward the armory, Aramis winked at the boy. “Don’t worry. I’ll have you start off with the smaller weapons.”

A heavy sigh escaped d’Artagnan. “This wasn’t what I had in mind when I came over.”

Smirking, Aramis remarked, “We don’t always get what we want in this lifetime.”

“Is that a new Musketeer motto I haven’t heard of?” Arching a brow, d’Artagnan slowly smiled upon the marksman’s hearty laughter.

“Pup, no matter how bad things get there’s always something you can do,” kindly chided Aramis.

“Oh yeah,” snorted d’Artagnan. “Like what for instance?”

“Whine, moan and complain.” Amazingly, Aramis kept a straight face as he delivered his punch line. And this time it was d’Artagnan’s laughter filling the air.

++++

_Back at the Royal Palace once more, still in the king’s chambers_

“Cardinal, I’ve been thinking of having another soiree and inviting d’Artagnan to take part. What say you?”

“Uh, Your Majesty, the boy would feel like a fish out of water. He’s much more used to country gatherings and nothing on a grand scale such as a soiree.” Then there was that other problem hanging over them like a dark cloud. “Plus, as you so kindly pointed out to me, by you having my filleul as a guest you might as well make a royal announcement to everyone that Jean-Armand and myself are d’Artagnan’s parrains.”

“You do know how to kill my fun, Cardinal,” drawled King Louis. “Bien, if I can’t have the lad there as a guest then include him in the guard detail that Captain Treville will be assigning for it.”

“I would need to know when you intend having the soiree before informing the captain, Your Majesty.”

“As soon as this sorry business with La Martiniere is over and done with.” Pacing up and down upon the carpet, King Louis snapped his fingers. “I will have the invitations sent out today and we shall have the soiree at week’s end. As for the Baron,” he paused, as a gleam entered his dark eyes, “he shall find himself stripped of all his titles.”

“Ah! Très bon.” Pleased that things were falling neatly into place, Richelieu bowed and departed. Upon his way past the soldiers on duty, he felt certain that the upcoming soiree may still pose problems for them all.

++++

_Notes:_

_Très bien_ \- very well  
_Famille_ \- family  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Mon coeur_ \- sweetheart or my heart  
_Bonne nuit_ \- is generally used when going to bed  
_Parrains_ – godfathers  
_Très bon_ – very good

 _Quote: "Home is where you can say anything you want because nobody listens to you anyway."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I love you even more than I'm annoyed with you and that's a lot."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Her nagging is a sign she cares. Her silence means run, run for your life."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Flowers say I'm sorry and jewelry says I've learned my lesson."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: “No matter how bad things get, there’s always something you can do… whine, moan and complain.”_ – from Aunty Acid.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, now noon – Garrison, Captain Treville’s office_

Reading the missive _twice_ , Treville pinched the bridge of his nose. He was pleased upon the king’s judgment with regards to stripping La Martiniere’s titles. That was the good part. The _bad_ was the coming soiree at week’s end that had him concerned.

Soirees, and the like, always tended to be quite worrisome for Treville and always gave him an ulcer. Malcontents somehow always managed to find a way to sneak into the events, despite numerous Red Guards and Musketeers on duty. Then occasionally he had to deal, diplomatically that was, with nobles who became exceedingly drunk and caused fights between other guests in attendance.

All in all, a soiree meant a huge headache of major proportions for Treville. One he wasn’t looking forward to in the slightest. Perhaps it wasn't too late for that vacation he had been planning. Before setting the letter aside, his eyes fell upon the last line in it. King Louis wanted him to make sure that d’Artagnan was amongst the guard detail. That part wouldn’t be a problem, as the boy needed exposure to His Majesty’s court. It also meant that his filleul would be learning the correct protocols and etiquette in dealing with the guests.

Grabbing a sheet of paper, Treville began jotting down a list of how many of his men that he would need to cover the affair. Oh he knew the Red Guards would be there in full force, but ever so often things never went well when Treville counted on them for back-up. It paid for him to always double the Musketeer guard in those concerns. In this case, since it was the last minute, he would have to cancel leave for his soldiers that had already been granted it. Treville would make it up to them later and hoped the men didn’t up and quit on him in disgust. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened. Nor, he doubted, would it be the last. Slowly banging his head on top of his desk, Treville muttered words that could not be uttered in polite company. How he hated soirees.

++++

_Courtyard_

“D’Artagnan hard at it, Aramis?” Having come back from teaching some recruits, Athos studied his friend’s irritated features.

“Did you say _hardheaded_?” Rolling his eyes, Aramis shook his head. “Because I swear I’ve never met someone as stubborn as our young Gascon.”

“Are you not glad that he is _my_ protégé and not yours?” A smug look passed over Athos’ face. In reality, he was pleased to have the lad tucked under his wings.

Making the sign of the cross, Aramis grinned. “Amen to that, mon frere.

Walking side-by-side, Athos gave a gentle nudge into Aramis' shoulder. "Was it wise to leave the pup by himself?"

A loud snort escaped Aramis. "I told him that I was older than him and he had to listen to me or else."

A brow rose, as his head then turned away for a moment to hide amusement which Athos knew would be showing upon his face. His expression now wiped clean, he deemed it safe to look back at his friend. "And did the lad heed your words?"

"I didn't bother hanging around to find out." Huffing, Aramis glared at the older man, not enjoying his decisions being questioned. "I gave d'Artagnan a stash of weapons to clean and left the boy to it."

His steps slowing, Athos stared hard at the other man. "I repeat... was that wise?"

"Athos... Athos...." Sighing dramatically, Aramis placed a hand over his own heart. "If we hadn't been friends for so long I'd feel hurt." Slapping his brother's back, he leaned in to whisper in Athos' ear. "I've left Porthos guarding the armory and what it contained within."

"Since the pup really should have been resting to begin with I will give him another hour at the most and then see if he would be willing to return to his apartment." Noting Treville upon the balcony, waving a hand to gain his attention, Athos picked up his pace again. "I shall see you later, Aramis." Leaving the marksman behind, he rushed up the steps to see what the captain needed of him.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

Having been informed that La Martiniere was definitely having his titles and lands stripped away, Athos was pleased that the Baron would not be in a position to hurt anyone for a very long time if ever. He had not been sure it was going to happen. Knowing that His Majesty could change his mind at a moment's notice. "Then what happens to him after that, Sir?"

"The Baron is going to serve several uncomfortable months, if not longer, in the Chatelet to think upon the error of his ways." Sitting behind his desk now, Treville picked up the missive he had received earlier. Handing it over to Athos, he awaited his lieutenant's reaction. Observing the younger man's expression change from one of curiosity to one of dread, Treville refrained from chuckling.

Tossing the missive aside, Athos sighed in resignation. "Have you started figuring out the guard detail yet?"

Nodding his head, Treville frowned. "All leave is going to have to be canceled I'm afraid." Running fingers through what hair he had left, he let his frustration show. "Before I forget the king also specifically told Cardinal Richelieu that d'Artagnan must be present amongst the guards."

"Twould be good experience for the lad," remarked Athos, thinking it a good idea. "The wound to the back of d'Artagnan's head is healing nicely and I am sure any residual effects from his concussion would be subsided by the time of the soiree."

"I was concerned upon seeing the young Gascon in the Garrison so soon today." The pointed look Treville settled upon his lieutenant was understood completely when he noted the same worry reflected in Athos' blue eyes.

"We could not persuade the pup to go back home. So Aramis has the lad cleaning weapons in the armory for now." There was not any need to inform Treville about d'Artagnan's impromptu performance with Porthos that had angered Athos so.

"I'm surprised the boy didn't dig in his heels and insist that you spar with him." Noting a guilty flush steal over Athos' face, Treville wondered if he should even ask what that was about. Deciding that it would be best for him to know, he motioned with a hand gesture for his lieutenant to spit it out.

"I had left to go speak with Tomas briefly and upon my return discovered d'Artagnan upon the ground." Watching the captain's mouth open and then snap shut, Athos continued. "My protégé had apparently sweet-talked Porthos into some hand-to-hand training to which I promptly put a halt to."

"How long has it been since the lad's been in the armory?" Beating a tattoo upon the desk with a quill Treville felt like using it upon his filleul's head.

"Too long I am sure by the pup's standards," drawled Athos.

"Oh go rescue him and make sure he gets back to the Bonacieuxs before d'Artagnan gets bored and goes out to challenge someone to a duel." Waiting for Athos to leave him, Treville made straight for his liquor cabinet. Retrieving a glass he poured himself a generous amount of whisky into it. His nerves needed fortified after all.

++++

After his talk with Treville, Athos' thoughts went over their conversation. The part that gave him pause had been when the captain worried that d'Artagnan may go challenge someone. That spoke of knowing the youngster's habits and that list Athos had been ticking off grew by leaps and bounds. Somehow his commanding officer was tied to the boy. While mulling everything over, his feet unconsciously took him straight to the armory. Then removing his protégé from the drudgery of the lad's task, Athos guided d'Artagnan out of the Garrison and down the city streets to the Bonacieux's home.

"But I don't want to take a nap, Athos," whined d'Artagnan, knowing he sounded more like a petit garcon than the eighteen year old that he was.

"When I was a child," started Athos resting his gaze upon his protégé, "I thought nap time was a punishment." Chuckling at the memory, he glanced sideways at the pup. "These days nap time feels like a vacation." D'Artagnan's carefree laughter followed them both, until the steps of the Bonacieux's home came into view. Athos noted the hesitation in d'Artagnan, as the lad's steps slowed down the closer they drew to the house. Abruptly the young Gascon came to a halt making Athos nearly bump into the boy's back.

Facing his mentor, determination was written all over d'Artagnan's face. "When will you let me train again?" Tucking his hands underneath his armpits, he bounced upon his heels.

"If you promise me to take it easy for the rest of this week you will be assigned guard duty with the rest of us for a soiree His Majesty is going to hold this coming weekend." Feeling like a parent holding out a treat for their own child, Athos bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling upon the delight that lit up d'Artagnan's eyes.

Feeling as if he had already won his pauldron, d'Artagnan nearly danced inside the house with Athos sedately following from behind.

++++

"Bonjour, messieurs." Smiling brightly, Constance carried on with the business of some intricate stitching she had been doing upon one of the gowns she had been creating for the queen. "D'Artagnan, I have some fresh apples in the kitchen that I bought earlier this morn at the market. I know how much you love them."

Shyly dipping his head toward her, d'Artagnan grinned. "Merci, Constance." Instead of making a beeline for his room, he went straight into the kitchen.

From underneath her eyelashes Constance peeked at Athos, wondering at his presence here.

Catching her looking at him, Athos figured that she was curious. "He needs to rest. Tis why I personally escorted him home."

An impish grin spread across her pretty features. "Are you also prepared to tuck d'Artagnan in as well?" Listening as Athos uttered an impolite word under his breath, which made Constance not only blush but made her ears burn as well, she decided to hold her tongue.

Excusing himself from further embarassment, Athos pointed toward the kitchen where the younger man had disappeared into. "I believe I could go for an apple too."

"Way to go, Constance," she berated herself. "Making Musketeer's uncomfortable seems to be my forte." Upset she didn't pay attention to her work. Accidentally stabbing her finger with a sewing needle, Constance yelped at the pain. Her discomfort had been instantly put aside, more worried that she may have gotten blood upon the gown than hurting herself. Noting that her creation remained unblemished, Constance breathed a sigh of relief. Then hearing the faint fall of footsteps taking the staircase one at a time, she realized that d'Artagnan and Athos were going up to the boy's room. Giggling, Constance wondered if the older Musketeer actually would end up tucking her young boarder in bed.

++++

Standing over the bed like a ange gardien, where the pup now laid, Athos studied the very young face that was in turn studying him. “Tell me about your life in Gascony.”

“Thought _you_ were the one that wanted me to take a nap.” Snorting softly, d’Artagnan plumped up his pillows. Once making himself comfortable, he laced his fingers together underneath his head to gaze upon the ceiling. “Nothing out of the ordinary, Athos. Papa’s farm is a prosperous one. He and maman have carved out a decent living from it and were able to help out our neighbors as well.”

“Monsieur d’Artagnan sounds an admirable man and one well respected in your community,” murmured Athos. He had pinned his hopes upon his protégé slipping up and giving him an inkling of the lad’s relationship to Captain Treville and Cardinal Richelieu.

“Papa is and so is maman as are my,” catching himself, d’Artagnan pretended to yawn instead.

“ _Your_?” Gently prodding the child before sleep claimed the youngster, Athos hoped for a response.

“Other relatives,” finished d’Artagnan. Turning over onto his side, he then fell into a light sleep. Seemed he had needed that nap after all.

Frustrated, Athos quietly closed the door behind him as he left the room. Perhaps he, Porthos and Aramis were all wrong anyway. There were other things he should be dwelling upon that were of greater import. Like King Louis’ coming soiree.

++++

_Week’s end, early eve – Royal Palace… the Soiree (or the Headache as Captain Treville refers to it)  
_

Lively music, played by the orchestra King Louis had hired, filled the ballroom. Its occupants having already started to dance, while others were tapping their toes to the rhythm. Nobles from various parts of Paris, and other outlying cities, had been invited. Preening peacocks and popinjays floated about the area, some even dared to dance.

King Louis hadn’t spared any expense. Though in the back of his mind he had a slight concern what his subjects would think when they got wind of it. Riots upon the palace grounds weren't anything to laugh about. It had happened in the past during King Henry’s reign. Having already come up with a monthly system of distributing food stuffs throughout the city, some still grumbled that it wasn’t enough. With his extravagance this eve, King Louis may have to change the distribution process to a weekly occurance to appease those that may rise up against the crown. 

If there had been qualms one wouldn’t have noted it when gazing upon the many banquet tables set up, along with several buvettes. The royal cooks had served up their best haute cuisine. From poultry and feathered game to fish and shellfish. The dessert tables were overflowing, with a chocolate fountain at their centers. Surrounding them were an array of tempting sweets. Including crème brulee, chocolate mousse, flaky Choux pastries such as profiteroles, eclairs and cruellers. Other specialties upon display were various tarts, turnovers, madeleines and crepes with sweet fillings.

While Their Majesty’s guests gorged themselves with fine wines and food, the others danced until their feet ached. The Musketeers and Red Guards protecting them were stationed everywhere. There were nearly as many men-at-arms on duty as there were guests. So much so that the soldiers kept tripping over each other.

The inseparables, along with d'Artagnan, however, were the only guards who knew where to be… right by the young royal couple's side. It had amused the inseparables over the young Gascon's amazed reaction to the finery the guests were wearing.

One Mademoiselle in particular wore something upon her head that defied description. But if d’Artagnan had been hard-pressed to guess, he’d say it resembled a live bird of some type. Covering his mouth to stifle a laugh, he glanced over at his parrains noting their raised brows and scowling faces as they stared back at him. Wiping his face of expression, d’Artagnan quietly hummed to himself after that and kept his eyes and ears open for any type of disturbance.

Until one of the nobles approached King Louis with a grievance, everything was coming along nicely. The inseparables were on the alert as the nobleman's voice grew louder. As for their young monarch, King Louis appeared quite bored by whatever it was that the man was saying to him. The music, at times, drowned out most of the noble's heated words. But what the inseparables could make out sounded like threats against His Majesty. As one they, along with their youngest, went to stand as a human shield in front of the king. It hadn’t helped that King Louis kept trying to push them aside to make a point with his antagonist. It wouldn’t be until much later that the soldiers were to discover that the nobleman was upset over the sentence showed to La Martiniere and the stripping of that Baron’s titles and lands. Apparently this man was concerned that the king would take it into his head to do that again, at some point, with others of the same ilk.

When the angry nobleman drew out his sword, Athos had a hard time keeping King Louis in check. The young royal had drawn his own rapier and was ready to defend his position upon the matter. Athos’ sharp gaze roamed about the room noting nothing else out of the ordinary happening. It appeared that the guests were oblivious as to the volatile situation on the verge of escalating into dangerous territory. Athos was so concerned over this noble, whose name he found out later was Comte De Lorme from Pantin, that he lost sight of his protégé.

D’Artagnan, with all the indignation of youth upon behalf of his king, decided to pit his swordsmanship against the Comte’s.

Before any of the inseparables could act, the two men crossed swords. Then and only then had the entire debacle gained attention from the guests. Even the stunned orchestra had stopped playing their instruments. Wanting to put an immediate halt to the proceedings, the inseparables were held back by His Majesty’s orders.

“I want to see this play out,” announced King Louis forcefully. “Twould serve De Lorme right to be brought low by an eighteen year old boy.”

Not pleased, Athos stood alongside Porthos and Aramis. The latter two were also not happy over the king’s order. Observing Treville and Cardinal Richelieu making a move toward them, Athos held up a hand for them to stay put. All he needed now was for His Eminence to come to harm. Knowing that the captain would protect the cardinal, Athos focused upon the fight in front of him.

While d’Artagnan wore down his older opponent, dancing circles around him, unbeknownst to him were the Comte’s friends coming to De Lorme’s aid.

“Were we to check the guests for weapons?” asked Aramis unsheathing his own sword. He had been stunned when the Comte had first approached the king, and Aramis noted the weapon upon De Lorme's person.

“Who would ‘ave’ thought nobles would come armed ta a fancy dance?” Weapon in his own hand, Porthos growled low.

“ _Merde!_ ” As a poignard flew through the air toward d’Artagnan’s unprotected back, Athos knew he would not reach the lad in time to prevent a tragedy. Then to his great astonishment the questions he and his friends have had, over the pup's relationship with the captain and the cardinal, were answered in a most unusual and frightening fashion.

Noting their filleul’s jeopardy both Armand and Jean-Armand moved like lightning to shove d’Artagnan onto the floor, covering the boy’s body with their own.

++++

_Notes:_

_Filleul_ – godson  
_Parrains_ \- godfathers  
_Petit garcon_ \- little boy  
_Messieurs_ – gentlemen  
_Buvettes_ – bars  
_Haute cuisine_ – high cuisine

_Ange gardien_ \- guardian angel  


_Crème brûlée_ is also known as burnt cream or Trinity cream is a dessert consisting of a rich custard base topped with a texturally contrasting layer of hardened caramelized sugar. It is normally served slightly chilled; the heat from the caramelizing process tends to warm the custard producing a cool center. The custard base is traditionally flavored with vanilla, but can have a variety of other flavorings.

 _Choux pastry_ \- is a light pastry dough used in many pastries. It contains only butter, water, flour and eggs. Instead of a raising agent, it employs high moisture content to create steam during cooking to puff the pastry.

 _Profiteroles_ – is a cream puff. It’s a filled French choux pastry ball with a typically sweet and moist filling of whipped cream, custard, pastry cream, or ice cream.

 _Cruellers_ \- is a fluted, ring-shaped doughnut made from choux pastry with a light airy texture.

 _Madeleines:_ is a traditional small cake which are very small sponge cakes with a distinctive shell-like shape acquired from being baked in pans with shell-shaped depressions.

 _Quote: "When I was a child I thought nap time was a punishment. These days nap time feels like a vacation."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same time and place – Royal Palace_

Nearly smothering their filleul Cardinal Richelieu and Captain Treville were piled on top of d’Artagnan, as the poignard sailed harmlessly over their collective heads to land at the feet of one of the royal guards. In the meantime, the inseparables immediately took care of De Lorme’s friends. As for the Comte himself, since d’Artagnan was still squirming underneath the protection of his human shield King Louis had had enough. Almost as soon as his three best Musketeers had gone into action, he stepped down from the dais. Sword in hand he pointed it’s tip at De Lorme’s exposed throat.

“A most untimely interruption of d’Artagnan’s duel. Do you not think?” Sarcasm laced his voice, as a satisfied smirk appeared upon King Louis’ face. “However, it gives me a chance to test my own skills.”

“ _SIRE… NON!_ ” shouted out Treville, as he struggled to gain his feet while at the same time pulling d’Artagnan back up.

Pouting, Kind Louis’ eyes met the captain’s worried gaze. “There you go again spoiling my fun.” So a swift cut across De Lorme’s throat had to suffice. Twas a minor wound but it left the Comte with a reminder of who was in charge and it certainly wasn’t him. “Cardinal, we may have to get a bigger Chatelet if this keeps up.” With a snap of his fingers, King Louis signaled some of the Red Guards to take De Lorme away. “Give him the cell opposite La Martiniere. They can compare stories while keeping each other company.”

Chuckling at his own wit, King Louis cast a critical eye over the trio consisting of his First Minister, captain and the young Gascon he now considered as a close friend. Joining them, he spoke in a low voice. “I fear the boy’s secret has been revealed or at the very least rumors will now run rampant over how you two,” he stabbed a humorous look upon Richelieu and Treville, “dramatically threw yourselves over our newest recruit.” Still chuckling, his warm gaze fell upon d’Artagnan. “I believe the inseparables will now have to be told,” he carelessly shrugged one shoulder. “That is unless they’ve already figured it out.”

Upset, d’Artagnan shook off the helping hands that still held onto him. Scowling at his parrains, his mouth opened and then quickly snapped shut. Not trusting himself to speak, he settled for standing beside the young monarch who still appeared amused by it all.

King Louis noted well that d’Artagnan wanted to shout something at the two older men. Needing to say to them what the boy doubtlessly felt, he said, “Couldn’t either one of you have simply shouted out to the boy to let's say... _duck_?” A guilty expression passed over His Eminence’ face, followed by the captain’s bent head. “D’Artagnan, you’ll remain with myself and Anne for the time being.” Leaning in close to the youngster, he whispered in the Gascon’s ear. “This way twould keep the curious at bay.”

Feeling gentle hands tugging at his doublet and then putting his hair back in some semblance of order, d’Artagnan politely dipped his head at the queen. “My thanks, Your Majesty.”

Tutting quietly, Queen Anne grinned. “I do have a first name, d’Artagnan.”

Startled, d’Artagnan at first remained silent then he quickly found his tongue. “His Majesty allows me the same privilege but only when in his company.”

“By all means then we shall do the same.” Hooking her arm into that of her husband’s, she guided Louis toward one of the buffets leaving the befuddled young Gascon to follow from behind.

++++

Facing Cardinal Richelieu, Athos crossed his arms feeling like scolding the man for needlessly risking his life like that. Treville was an entirely different matter. Their commander knew the risks and how to defend himself and others. Still it had not set well with Athos when Treville threw all decorum to the wind. The captain’s first thought, if anything, should have been seeing to protecting the young royals.

Not understanding what had gone through either His Eminence or the captain’s heads at the time perplexed Athos greatly. Rewinding the events that had just played out in his mind, he frowned. Thinking more upon it, twas as if Treville and Richelieu had been protecting their own famille. Which meant only one thing…d’Artagnan was somehow related to both men. Something of which Athos had already thought over.

But why keep it such a secret? It also appeared that Their Majestys have adopted Athos’ protégé into the bargain. Which was not a bad thing but that painted another target upon the lad’s back. Some things just were not worth the trouble. If Athos had not grown so close so fast to the young Gascon, he would have been done with him in lickety-split time.

As Athos’ headache increased muddling over all of this, another thought hit him. One that was not welcomed at all. If word was revealed that the boy was indeed related, in some manner, to Cardinal Richelieu or Treville, an even bigger concern held Athos momentarily immobile. And in there lies the true reason d’Artagnan’s secret had been kept so dark. The child could be used against them if ever the youngster fell into the wrong hands.

With the lad constantly surrounded by the king and queen, Athos and his brothers could not as yet get near d’Artagnan to question him further.

“I get the impression that Their Majestys are keeping the pup away from us,” cheerily offered Aramis, who had done his best not to show his worry over their youngest.

“After witnessin’ that performance from the cardinal and our captin’ I’m guessin’ that’s why the royals ‘ave closed ranks around the whelp.”

Having shared his own beliefs again with his two friends, Athos found out they had figured it out for themselves as well.

“Kid doesn’t want special privileges either,” snorted Porthos. “I’d bet my next pay that’s part of the reason for not tellin' us and anyone else.”

“We could discuss this until we’re blue in the face. Unless we hear it for ourselves from the lad’s lips this is all conjecture.” Keeping his eyes open for any other idiocy that may take place, Aramis stepped away from the other two.

“Let us follow his example and make our rounds, Porthos.” With a pat to the larger man’s back, Athos moved off.

++++

Much later, all the guests had left. The ballroom had been cleared out of nearly everything but Their Majestys, Cardinal Richelieu, Captain Treville and d’Artagnan. The few royal guards that were left were positioned outside the doors. Musketeers and Red Guards had been dismissed as well. With a few quiet words to the young royals and d’Artagnan, His Eminence and the captain were the next to depart.

“D’Artagnan, I greatly fear you’re in for an interrogation from your friends after what happened tonight.” A fond look passed over Louis’ face. He was glad not to be in the boy’s shoes in the coming days.

“If it all becomes too much for you,” kindly put in Anne, “just seek us out. You’ll always be welcomed here.” Tilting her head to the side, she studied the youth. “But I think you already know that.”

“Merci to both of you for the kindnesses you’ve been showing me.” Running an agitated hand through his hair, d’Artagnan’s shoulders slumped. “At least I have an uninterrupted night’s sleep to look forward to before it begins.” Bowing to them, d’Artagnan took his leave.

++++

_Bonacieux residence_

Slipping inside the house, quiet as a mouse or so he hoped, d’Artagnan made his way upstairs. Once in his room, he removed his weapons belt and the rest of his clothes. Putting on his nightshirt he was about to make for bed but sounds of something being dragged, right outside his door, gained his attention. Opening the door a crack d’Artagnan poked his head out and found Jacques trying his best to push a heavy oak chest all by himself. “Could I be of assistance?”

“D’Artagnan,” cried Jacques in startled surprise. “When did you get in?”

“Just a few minutes ago,” admitted d’Artagnan. “I didn’t want to disturb anyone so went straight up to my room.” Canting his head to the side, he studied the chest. “Where are you taking it?”

“Constance got it into her head that this was in the road and wanted it moved from her sewing room to the attic.” Rolling his eyes Jacques noted amusement cover the younger man’s features. “I have another piece of advice for you whenever you find yourself with a bride.” Holding up a finger, like he was about to deliver a lecture, Jacques continued. “Always do what your wife wants regardless if you find it distasteful and there will be peace in your home.” The boy looked back at Jacques so seriously that it made him laugh. 

Now with the extra pair of hands, added to Jacque’s own, they successfully carried their burden up into the attic without mishap. “Merci, d’Artagnan. Now it looks like we both can make for our beds.” With a slight dip of his head, he bid the lad a good eve. “Bonne nuit.”

“Bonne nuit,” repeated d’Artagnan. After having gone back to his own room he flopped upon the bed, crawling under the covers. Knowing the inquisition he would more than likely be subjected to the next day, d’Artagnan felt that sleep would elude him. Instead he was surprised to find himself growing quite sleepy. When his eyes finally remained closed, his worries slipped away.

++++

_Next day, late morn closer to noon – Athos’ apartments_

Since pulling palace duty for the soiree Athos, along with Porthos and Aramis, had today to themselves. It had been nice to have the luxury of sleeping in. The captain had even sent Serge over to deliver breakfast. He assumed the same consideration had been extended to his brothers as well. Having finished eating, he decided to seek them out.

++++

_Porthos’ apartments_

Having first gone to Porthos’ place, Athos was about to knock when he noted the door was already partially open. Stepping inside he was delighted to discover that Aramis was there too. Spotting his bigger friend, Athos smiled. Porthos stood in the center of the room, arms stretched out wide, followed by a yawn so huge it threatened to split the man's face.

“My idea of a good mornin’ is one where I open my eyes, take a deep breath… then go back ta sleep.” Porthos’ booming laughter filled the room.

Aramis’ shoulders shook from his own amusement at the comment. “I understand the sentiment completely, mon ami. I have felt many the same way at times.” Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted a figure. Hand automatically reaching for his sword Aramis realized it was his brother. “Had a good rest?”

“For once I did not have to dunk my head in a bucket of cold water to wake up properly.” Glancing around, Athos wondered where their young one was. “Have either of you seen d’Artagnan yet?”

“The way Their Majestys hovered around our pup tis a wonder they didn’t make the lad stay overnight within the relative safety of the palace walls,” snorted Aramis.

“Whelp’s probably been givin’ permission ta ‘ave the day ta ‘imself like us so the kid could be anywhere.”

“D’Artagnan’s up in the captain’s office if that’s what all of you needed to know.” Having just delivered lunch for two to the commander, he had seen the boy relaxing there with his feet resting upon the nicely varnished desk. It was unlike the captain to let something like that go. Thing was Serge already had gotten wind of how it was between the Gascon and the older officer. Which, of course, explained a lot. Things that mattered never usually got by him and that included realizing d’Artagnan was famille to Captain Treville.

“Guess our questions will have to wait until the lad seeks us out.” With a wave of his hand, Aramis walked toward the door. He was halfway out, when Porthos shouted at him.

“Hey! Where ya goin’?”

A sly look came over Aramis’ handsome features. “A certain Mademoiselle, who shall remain nameless, awaits me at her apartments.” With a wink at his brothers, Aramis began to whistle as he departed their company.

“Why should I think 'e'd ever change,” grumbled Porthos but there was a smile in his voice.

“Would we ever want him to, mon frere?” Knowing his protégé was with Treville gave Athos the reason he needed. So he too left Porthos alone to seek out some answers.

++++

_Captain Treville’s office_

His hand raised ready to knock upon the door, which was left partially open to begin with, Athos heard a familiar raised voice coming from within. It sounded as if the captain was mad at the pup. Usually not an eavesdropper Athos could not help but to overhear the entire conversation.

++++

"Care to explain the bruises your face is now sporting?" asked Jean-Armand. "Or are you trying to set a new fashion trend?" Tone dry, he noted his filleul wince at his words. D'Artagnan certainly hadn't looked like that when they parted last eve and Jean-Armand wanted to know the reason for it.

"On my way here I tried to go after a man that had just robbed a poor beggar child from the Court." Grimacing when the sore muscles in his face pulled tight, d'Artagnan pressed on. "It didn't go so well."

Gruffly Jean-Armand said, "I can well see that. What of all your training? Did you forget everything you were ever taught?"

"Unfortunately for me this particular cut-purse had friends in the marketplace," huffed d'Artagnan. "I soon found myself being pounded by nearly every vegetable and fruit known to man. Then I tripped over some empty crates that were thrown in my path."

"Then those bruises didn't come from a fight?"

"Those projectiles were thrown very hard but I believe most of the bruises came when I fell down and hit those crates, Oncle."

++++

There was a break in the conversation that gave Athos the opportunity to make himself known. Knuckles giving the door a few quick raps he let himself in. Acting as if he had not heard a thing, Athos stepped into the office. "Ah, there you are, d'Artagnan. Saves me from going over to your apartment."

Tensing up, d'Artagnan waited for his mentor to start asking questions of last eve.

Already knowing the causes of his protégé's bruises, Athos had to act surprised. "What does the other fellow look like?"

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan showed the older man the bottom of his boots where he still wore the evidence of smashed produce.

Arching a brow, Athos kept up his pretense of not understanding.

"Oh I'll explain later." His mentor's eyebrow remained where it was, and d'Artagnan just knew that his own embarassment would only be worse when he had to tell Athos what took place.

"I shall look forward to hearing all about it." With a pointed stare at Treville, and then back to the boy once more, Athos' gaze lingered longer upon the young Gascon. "Care to tell me what happened at the soiree?"

"You mean my duel with the Comte?"

"Not exactly." Now Athos focused upon the tick near Treville's right eye. The older officer squirmed slightly in his chair, appearing uncomfortable.

With a resigned look from his filleul, Treville steepled his fingers together and peered over them at his lieutenant. "As you know d'Artagnan hails from Gascony. That I'm from there too is not a state secret." Pausing he drew in a long breath letting it out slowly. "What you don't know is that Cardinal Richelieu also hails from the same community." As usual it was hard to tell what went on in Athos' mind, as the younger man's face was devoid of expression.

Continuing, Treville said, "Both of us grew up with the lad's père - Alexandre. Together we were the original inseparables."

Picking it up from there, d'Artagnan added his own words. "When I was born papa made them my parrains. They have been my honorary oncles ever since."

"Why keep it under wraps?" Even though Athos had surmised it was for the pup's safety, he wanted to hear it from his protégé.

"I didn't want to be treated differently because of our famille connection."

"Do I assume that the king knew about this all along?" Staring at his commander, Athos noted the affirmative nod of the officer's head.

"Louis had been most eager to meet my filleul as he had known of the lad from stories both the cardinal and myself have told him."

"There will be much speculation over your actions as well as His Eminence, Captain." Glancing over at d'Artagnan, Athos' lips pursed. "I will later fill in Aramis and Porthos. Hopefully we can keep the relationship quiet."

"Twas more for d'Artagnan's benefit than our own, Athos." Standing up Treville came around his desk to perch upon its edge. "He'll just have to make the best of it if some of the men begin saying things or acting differently toward him."

D'Artagnan's downcast expression made Athos feel badly for the child. Wanting to keep a low profile was something he totally understood. Having been there himself. "Sir, is the lad free for the day too?"

"Of course." Not sure what his lieutenant had in mind Treville was pleased that Athos hadn't put up a fuss over not having been informed of any of this.

"Let us go see what type of trouble Porthos has stirred up, d'Artagnan." Waiting for his protégé to get up from the chair the pup seemed glued to, Athos tried for a smile.

"What of Aramis?" Slowly getting up d'Artagnan then followed his mentor out the door. When Athos explained about another of the marksman's lady friends, d'Artagnan chuckled and wished he'd be so lucky.

++++

_A short while later_

As the two men went to look for the large Musketeer, d'Artagnan's mind wandered back to the events of last eve. "First the Baron and now the Comte. I would have thought better of such nobles."

"I shall tell you what all my years upon earth have taught me, lad," remarked Athos. "They have taught me that some people are just beautifully wrapped boxes of crap."

"Pfft! Your're not that old, Athos," snorted d'Artagnan. "And I would have expected such a remark to come out of Porthos' mouth not your own."

"Having been a Musketeer for a number of years now, some days that is exactly how I feel."

"Goes to show you that not every highborn person is loyal to the crown." Disgusted, d'Artagnan tried to digest what he had learned from his recent jaunt with Oncle Armand and what had just taken place over at the palace. "What think you upon that, eh?"

"I can tell you for myself that the only people I owe _my_ loyalty to are people who never made me question theirs." Not waiting for the youngster to respond, Athos pointed over to where Porthos stood in front of The Wren.

Spying his friends, Porthos snarked, "Why is it that people always say 'non offense' right before they're goin' ta offend ya?"

"Don't know." Curious, d'Artagnan stared at the man laying upon the ground at Porthos' feet. "What happened to him?" Rough laughter met his ears.

"We 'ad a bit of a disagreement over cards." Ignoring Athos' stern look of disapproval, Porthos grinned and winked at the whelp. "See, kid, I've got an ange upon one shoulder and a diable upon the other." Nudging d'Artagnan in the ribs, Porthos kicked the man back down when he tried to get up. "Trouble is, I'm deaf in one ear and guess which one won?"

D'Artagnan treated Porthos to an expressive eyeroll. "Athos and I were having a serious discussion over loyalty while we were searching for you. What's your opinions given what's taken place lately?"

"Whelp, my loyalty can't be bought." Snickering, Porthos winked wickedly at the pup. "'Owever, it can be rented."

"Be very careful whom you say that to," hissed Athos. "You are a Musketeer... remember that."

"'Ow could I ever forget when you're right by my side remindin' me all the time?" Throwing a companionable arm over the kid's shoulder, Porthos steered the lad inside the tavern. "Now, d'Artagnan, I'm gonna teach ya the right way ta play the game."

Glancing over his shoulder at his mentor, d'Artagnan could tell that Athos didn't approve. Waiting to hear why, he couldn't find fault with the older man's reasons.

"Oh please do show the child how to cheat!" spat Athos. "What a fine example that is for an up and coming Musketeer."

Sitting down at an empty table, Porthos began shuffling a deck of cards. "Blow it out the other end, Athos. Ya can't tell me ya never cheated at the game."

"Why should I when you do it so well for the rest of us," huffed Athos. "We are the lad's mentors and should correctly teach him what it takes to earn his pauldron."

"Wonder ya don't get a nosebleed from that high horse you're sittin' upon, Athos." Shrugging, Porthos continued shuffling the deck. Glancing at the whelp, he grinned. "Ya learn ta ignore 'im when he gets like that sooner or later, d'Art."

Not quite sure what to make of the exchange between the two older soldiers, d'Artagnan quietly sat across from the larger man while Athos stomped back outside.

++++

_Notes:_

_Parrains_ – godfathers  
_Famille_ – family  
_Bonne nuit_ – used before going to bed  
_Oncle_ \- uncle  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Ange_ \- angel  
_Diable_ \- devil

 _Quote: “My idea of a good morning is one where I open my eyes, take a deep breath… then go back to sleep.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I'll tell you what all my years on earth have taught me. They've taught me that some people are just beautifully wrapped boxes of crap."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "The only people I owe my loyalty to are people who never made me question theirs."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Why is it that people always say 'no offense' right before they're going to offend you?"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I've got an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. Trouble is, I'm deaf in one ear."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _"My loyalty cannot be bought. However, it can be rented."_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, around one pm – The Wren_

Porthos and d’Artagnan were still playing cards. Porthos had managed to rope several Red Guards and another Musketeer into joining them. While this was going on, at another table greedy eyes rested upon the young Gascon.

++++

“That boy could make us a lot of money.” With his one good eye, Deville cast it toward the other men he was drinking with.

Constantin swiped at his mouth, placing his empty mug of lager back upon the table. “What makes you believe that?”

“Kid’s a new face. I haven’t seen him around before,” remarked Hurst. “What money could one lad bring us, let alone a skinny Gascon boy?”

“I discovered that the lad’s come to Paris to train at the Garrison,” explained Deville to his cohorts. “And it gets better.” Signaling to one of the tavern maids to fetch them another round of drinks, he happily told them more. “Turns out that his parrains are the cardinal himself and the Musketeer captain." Rubbing his chin, an eager gleam entered Deville’s dark eyes. “I’d say we could get a hefty ransom for the kid.”

“And I’d say tis a good way to get a rope around our necks,” grunted Clough. “That is unless they show us mercy and cut off our heads instead.”

“Ever the pessimist, Clough.” Deville’s harsh laughter at his friend made the other man squirm.

“Have a plan how we’re to bag this walking windfall?” Exchanging a wry look with Constantin, who was sitting beside him, Donatien waited to hear an idea that wouldn’t get them caught up in the hangman’s noose.

“I’m working on it." Taking a sip of his drink, Deville kept his eyes on the youngster.

“Better work fast cause the kid’s leaving.” The plan better be one that doesn’t get them all sent to the Bastille or worse… the Chatelet, worried Hurst. He didn’t even want to begin thinking of being hung or losing his head.

“It won’t matter cause I’ve heard where the boy’s living.” Watching the Gascon youth follow the soldiers outside, Deville took another swig of his drink. “We could always catch him there if we have to.”

“Let’s say that whatever you come up with works,” leaning forward, voice low, Clough went on, “then what happens?”

“We’ll send a ransom note to both the Garrison and Palais-Cardinal. Of course, we’ll have our faces covered the entire time we’re around the kid so this way he can’t identify us.” It sounded good to Deville. So now all he had to do was figure out how to bag their prize.

++++

Blissfully unaware of the kidnapping plot, d’Artagnan was the last to exit the tavern. Wondering where Athos had gotten off to, he scanned the crowded streets for signs of his mentor. Not seeing him anywhere visible, d’Artagnan began to feel badly that he had hung around with Porthos instead of staying with Athos. A large, dark hand suddenly reached out and grabbed d’Artagnan’s bicep, beginning to pull him along down the streets past some pretty prostitutes vying for his attention. “Where’s the fire, Porthos?”

“That long face you’re a wearin’ is makin’ me feel guilty for some reason, d’Art.” Making a face, Porthos kept a tight hold of the whelp. “Since I just spotted Athos comin’ outta Monsieur d’Estaing’s I figured we’d better catch ‘im now.”

Ever polite, bien when it suited d’Artagnan, he asked, “And who is Monsieur d’Estaing may I ask?”

“That’s where Athos goes ta ‘ave custom made weapons commissioned for ‘imself,” replied Porthos.

“Sounds expensive.” Getting tired of being led around like the pup, they had fondly deemed him to be, d’Artagnan shook his arm free. “Can Athos afford it?”

“’E’s got a deep purse at times. Neither Aramis nor me ever questioned ‘im on it.” Deep in thought, Porthos tacked on, “Man’s got ‘is secrets just as we all do, kid.” Winking at the boy, he grinned. “Just like ya 'ave too.”

“You’ll hear it from Athos later but I might as well tell you now that Cardinal Richelieu and Captain Treville are mes parrains.” Waiting to see surprise register upon the swarthy face, d’Artagnan instead was the one surprised.

“Figured ya might ‘ave been related ta one of ‘em.” Afraid the whelp was going to get away from him, Porthos latched onto d’Artagnan’s arm again. “Especially with the way they acted at the soiree,” he cheekily added. “Pretty much a dead giveaway for those already curious.”

When they finally caught up to Athos, they both flanked the older man.

Eyes of turbulent blue glared into Porthos’. “Whom did you fleece today?” His larger brother’s laughter made passersby stare in their direction and only irritated Athos all the more.

“Levesque and Pierre left our table poorer than when they first joined us.” Trying to make a jest of it, d’Artagnan prayed his mentor would see reason.

Glancing at his protégé, Athos sadly shook his head. “And Porthos wonders at times why we have problems with the Red Guards.”

“I can’t ‘elp it!” cried Porthos, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration with his friend. Looking at the kid he tried defending himself. “Everythin’ I like is either illegal… immoral... fattening,” patting his stomach, though most of it was muscle, he chuckled, “…addictive… expensive or impossible.”

“That makes it all right to corrupt the child then?” spat Athos, still steamed over his brother teaching the pup bad habits. Lord only knows, eventually over time, how many of those _habits_ the lad would pick up. Especially concerning Aramis and that one's paramours. Athos just hoped that he would never come across d’Artagnan hanging from a window as Aramis was wont to do on a semi-regular basis.

Stepping in-between the two men, d’Artagnan glanced from one to the other. “Athos, I really didn’t catch on very well. Porthos tried to teach me right before the others joined our table,” he smiled to ease the tense atmosphere. “Tis going to take time to learn all his tricks.”

Pulling the youngster off to one side, Athos frowned. “I shall endeavor to make sure you do not have _time_ for his shenanigans.” Casting an exasperated look at Porthos, he shook his finger at his brother. “It always ends up with him getting into trouble and dragging the rest of us along.”

A burst of laughter from Porthos startled d’Artagnan who gazed upon the giant Musketeer strangely.

“The trouble with _trouble_ , d’Art, is it always starts out as fun.” Nudging the whelp in the side, Porthos snickered. “Athos is only jealous.”

A loud snort followed by an exaggerated eyeroll from his mentor made d’Artagnan grin.

Having come upon his friends, Aramis heard the tale-end of the conversation and couldn’t help voicing his own opinion. "Porthos, mon frere, you drink too much, you cuss too much and you have questionable morals." A hearty slap to the other man's back accompanied his words. "You're everything I ever wanted as a friend." Aramis' words caused much amusement amongst them.

"So did you have an enjoyable time?" asked Athos, noting the marksman's face slowly turn red.

Kissing his fingertips, Aramis sighed. "A gentleman never kisses and tells."

"Yeah," snorted Porthos. "But no one ever said ya were a gentleman."

"That's low," murmured Aramis. "Even for you."

"Now that we are all together," pausing, Athos stared at his protégé, "d'Artagnan, anything in particular you would like to do as we still have a good portion of the day left?"

Not having expected the question, d'Artagnan momentarily was silent. He did know what he wanted to do but wasn't sure if it would sit well with any of them. In his hesitation to say anything, d'Artagnan winced when Porthos grew impatient.

"Spit it out, kid!"

"I'd like to visit the Court." Blurting his words out in that way wasn't quite what d'Artagnan had planned upon. Suddenly one could hear a pin drop. He figured he should have kept his mouth shut, upon gazing at his friend's thunderous expressions.

"Why in the world would you want to go there?" Hands on his hips, Aramis stared hard at the pup. Any memories of his romantic tryst fled from his mind.

"I'd like to find the child that got robbed and give him a few coins. I'm sure he could use the money." Folding his arms, d'Artagnan studied the three older men. If they would not take him perhaps later he would go alone.

"Oy!" There was a look on the whelp's face that Porthos was quite familiar with. He just knew the pup was going to go there by himself if they didn't go with him. "Rough territory there. Especially for a novice."

"Pfft! That petit has no doubt already victimized another poor unfortunate," flatly stated Athos. "Why worry over the urchin?" It did not take long for that Gascon stubborness to come to the fore. The jut of the lad's chin, accompanied by that scowl d'Artagnan was treating them all to, told Athos that all of them would have their work cut out for them in changing the boy's mind.

"When I went back to check on him the petit was gone. I wanted to make sure he was all right and figured some money in his hands would make up for his loss." Looking away from his friends for a minute, d'Artagnan became lost in thought. "I've seen children go hungry along with their parents before. He could have a family he's trying to provide for the only way he knows how."

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change... the courage to change the things I can... and the wisdom to know the difference." Going over to where d'Artagnan stood, Aramis' dark eyes were solemn. "You do realize that perhaps the petit's loss had previously been someone else's." A deep sigh escaped the younger man, making Aramis wish he could have taken back his words.

Knowing exactly what Aramis was getting at, it didn't make any difference as far as d'Artagnan was concerned. "I'm fully prepared to go by myself since none of you think it a wise course." Turning his back on them he only managed a few steps before he found himself surrounded. His mentor to d'Artagnan's left, Aramis to his right, and Porthos at his back.

"I shudder to think what Treville would do to us if he discovered we let you go to the Court on your own." Athos thought it did not bear thinking of.

"And the cardinal would 'ave our 'eads... literally," remarked Porthos.

"I'd find myself on my knees in church doing penance if anything untoward happened to you." A mock shudder rippled through Aramis, at even the idea of it.

Smirking, d'Artagnan's pace quickened toward his goal.

++++

_Cour des Miracles_

"Eh, what ya doin' nosin' around 'ere?" A gruff voice spoke out from seemingly nowhere.

Startled at first, d'Artagnan regained his composure. "I wanted to talk to the boy that got robbed near the marketplace earlier today." Craning his neck he thought he noted a slight, bony frame hiding behind one of the brutes guarding the entrance to the Court, so d'Artagnan moved closer. Or at least he tried to, as he had to bat at the hands of his friends that were doing their level best to keep him in one place. Apparently d'Artagnan's movement hadn't set well either with the rough looking men acting like sentries to a palace.

As the youth moved forward Lambert and Phelipe moved as well, barring the kid's entrance. They were armed if things got out of hand but, then again, they didn't want any trouble with Musketeers either. And they could tell by the uniforms the other three wore that that's what they were.

Realizing that they didn't trust him, or more than likely it was because of the three soldiers at d'Artagnan's back, he held out his hand. As he slowly opened it up, several coins were exposed. "I only wanted to give him some money as the child was robbed of what he had."

Squeezing himself past the bulk of the two bodies, Emile looked up into the honest features of the one who gave chase to his attacker. Then his eyes fell to the man's palm and what it contained. There was more money there than what Emile could have earned in a day stealing from the clueless. "All that for me?"

"Would it be to much to ask that you listen to me and don't pinch any pockets for a time?" Half said in jest, d'Artagnan meant every word. Dropping the coins into the petit's grubby hands, he was surprised at the boy's answer.

"Can't say I will," said Emile with a cheeky grin. "Then again can't say I won't."

"That's the best ya gonna get outta the brat, d'Art."

Throwing a dirty look at the giant Musketeer, Emile spat, "Ain't a brat!"

Leaning down, so that his nose nearly touched the petit's, Porthos growled. "If'n I say you're a brat then ya are one."

Emile gulped, not feeling so brave after all. Best to watch himself with the inseparables. Oui, he knew who they were. All of Paris knew. Especially ones that lived within the safe haven of the Court's walls.

"Porthos, that was uncalled for," admonished d'Artagnan. Glancing at the white faced petit again, he huffed. "Forgive my friend for scaring you."

"Wasn't scared." Sniffing a few times, Emile's action belied his words.

"Did ya get the one that went after our Emile?" asked Lambert.

"Non. Unfortunately the man got away from me with help from his friends at the market." Touching his still sore face, d'Artagnan winced. When he observed the two men glanced at one another in silent communication, d'Artagnan felt that they may have some information in regards to the cut-purse. "If either of you know anything that would lead me to him, it would be of great help."

Phelipe appreciated that the young man in front of him had tried to aid Emile but anything else they'd handle themselves. "We take care of our own."

Knowing he couldn't push the matter any further, d'Artagnan turned to his companions. "Guess I've done my part." With a last look at Emile, d'Artagnan turned away. But the petit's parting words filled him with hope that some bridges could be mended with his act of kindness.

"I won't forget this, d'Artagnan!"

When they left the Court behind them, d'Artagnan glanced over at Porthos. "How did Emile know who I was?"

"Word spreads fast around 'ere, kid." Porthos' hand gripped the back of the whelp's neck, giving it a friendly squeeze.

"Plus you've been seen in the best of company lately," pleasantly offered Aramis. "Meaning of course... _us_."

"A fresh face always sets tongues wagging and brings out the curious." Bumping his shoulder against his protégé's, Athos kept his guard up since they were not yet in the better part of the city.

"If'n it makes ya feel any better I think ya made a petit friend." Winking at the pup, Porthos snatched two apples from the stall of an old crone. Throwing the vendor a coin he then handed over one of the red apples to d'Artagnan.

"Merci." Biting into its flesh, juice dribbled down d'Artagnan's chin. When his three companions began to lightly laugh at him, he realized that he must have resembled the Gascon farmboy they knew him to be. "These are my favorite."

"We never would have known, lad." A sparkle lit Aramis' eye, as he teased their youngest. A sudden tingling at the back of his neck made him turn his head to the side. Spotting an unsavory character eyeing d'Artagnan up and down, he became concerned. Picking up the pace Aramis told the others to do the same.

"Why are we in such a hurry?" D'Artagnan's innocent question caught the inseparables by surprise.

Having understood Aramis' reasons for getting out of the area post-haste, Athos tried to explain without going into detail. "People have been known to go missing and never seen again in this quarter."

"That could happen anywhere within the city." Still unsure of the real reason behind the inseparable's rush, d'Artagnan didn't pursue the matter.

"Yeah but it 'appens a lot right around 'ere." Glancing over his shoulder, Porthos was making sure they weren't being followed.

As if d’Artagnan had an epiphany, he now realized what had spooked the three soldiers. “Oh!” Blushing deeply, he shyly ducked his head. Why he was embarrassed he couldn’t say. Remembering papa’s words of warning, and that of his parrains, he knew that unsavory creatures preyed upon the poor, the innocent and, in his case, the clueless. Slavery, of any sort, always had left a bad taste in d’Artagnan’s mouth. To think his friends feared for his safety warmed his heart. Somehow he must have missed the threat to himself that the others had instantly picked up on. “Ummmm,” licking dry lips, d’Artagnan’s eyes bounced from one friend to the other, “do you not think whomever it was would be pretty stupid to try anything with the king’s soldiers within feet of him?”

“D’Artagnan, no one ever said that the crooks around here had any brains.” Grinning, Aramis was happy that they had gotten away without harm coming to their youngest.

“How about all of you showing me more of Paris.” The accompanying groans to his question made d’Artagnan chuckle softly. “If I’m expected to eventually patrol these streets I don’t think it would do for me to get lost.” Laughing, he added, “Who knows… I could even end up walking into the Seine.”

“Oh for the love of…” Athos never finished what he was saying. Instead his sharp gaze rested upon the boy. “Do not be a bothersome child.” Still the stern tone of his voice was belied by the twitch of his lips. “But if you insist.”

“I do.” Head bobbing up and down, d’Artagnan grinned cheekily at the rueful face of his mentor.

“Then let us show you the less seamier side of our city. Eventually you will come to know the parts of Paris where we just came from all too well.” Athos was going to say something further but Aramis just had to have his say.

"Ah, oui," winking at the lad, Aramis threw an arm around the boy's slim shoulders, "Madame Angels is not to be missed."

"Aramis!" hissed Athos.

"Is there something wrong with it, Athos?" Noting that he didn't appear pleased with Aramis for bringing it up made d'Artagnan all the more curious to know what the problem was.

"Tis nothing more than a brothel as far as I am concerned." Giving the stink eye to his brother for mentioning the place, Athos continued on down the street.

"Madame would be terribly upset that you thought that." Pouting, Aramis shared a long look with Porthos. "If you don't want me to bring the lad there then I won't."

"Not up to me," grumbled Athos, shooting a look at the pup.

"Perhaps some other time, Aramis." Wanting only to keep the peace, d'Artagnan figured he could always arrange to go there later. What Athos didn't know wouldn't hurt the older man.

"Ya know I could go for somethin' sweet ta eat." Looking at his friends, Porthos pointed to the end of the street. "Pastry shop's right over there. What cha' say?"

"I'd like a pastry," said d'Artagnan eagerly. "I miss maman's. Her pastries were the best in all of Lupiac."

"So says the son." Laughing, Aramis enjoyed making the Gascon youth's cheeks turn rosy. "You're a tad prejudice in the matter, lad. But you could tell us how theirs compares."

"I can't wait to see their selection because I want to bring some back to mes parrains."

"Then let us not tarry. We do not want them to sell out before we get there." Pleased that something was going to go right, Athos walked side-by-side with his friends.

++++

_Notes:_

_Parrains_ – godfathers  
_Mes parrains_ – my godfathers  
_Cour des Miracles_ \- Court of Miracles

Thanks to Elenduen for reminding me about Aramis’ seductive skills and acrobatics in hanging from windows. LOL! As I used it in this chapter.

 _Quote: Everything I like is either illegal, immoral, fattening, addictive, expensive or impossible.”_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: “The trouble with trouble is it always starts out as fun.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "You drink too much, you cuss too much and you have questionable morals. You're everything I ever wanted as a friend."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Serenity Prayer: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. The courage to change the things I can. And the wisdom to know the difference."_ Written by the American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr (1892–1971).


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, toward early evening – Palais-Cardinal_

“Uh, you’ve got a bit of cream there upon your mustache, Oncle.” Biting into his own cream-filled croissant, d’Artagnan hid his smile. There had been such a huge variety of pastries to choose from, when he and the inseparables had stopped at the shop, that he’d had a hard time choosing. But it appeared that he’d chosen wisely, noting how both his parrains were enjoying their treats.

Grinning, while Armand wiped the cream off with a delicately embroidered lace handkerchief, Jean-Armand glanced over at the lad. “I’m so glad I was visiting Armand or I would have missed out on these delights.” Polishing off a rich-tasting chocolat-cream filled éclair, Jean-Armand licked the remains from his fingertips.

“I have yours in the other box, Oncle, but I stopped here first.”

“Then you owe me one of your own pastries since you’ve delved into mine.” Treating his good friend to a stern look, Armand usually reserved for the king’s councilmen who have irritated him, he waited for Jean-Armand to hand over one of the delicacies.

It was most amusing for d’Artagnan to observe this exchange. “Perhaps I should go back and purchase more for the both of you.”

“This will suffice for today, d’Artagnan.” Smiling fondly at his filleul, Armand patted the lad on the back.

“But perhaps later on in the week,” twinkling blue eyes met the curious brown orbs of the youngster, “you wouldn’t mind surprising us with some more of these treats.” Amusement danced over Jean-Armand’s features as d’Artagnan rolled his eyes.

“I hadn’t realized what a sweet tooth you both have.” Chuckling, d’Artagnan hopped off his perch upon the desk.

“Didn’t you ever find it suspicious that we both ended up at your farm whenever Françoise baked her own pastries?” Noting the lad’s eyes widen at the implication, Armand smirked. “Man cannot live by bread alone.” His words brought about much laughter. When it eventually died away, he watched his filleul pick up the doublet that d’Artagnan had carelessly flung over an empty chair. “Time to go?”

“I’m heading on home.” Smiling shyly, he added, “Anyway Constance probably has dinner almost ready.”

“Ah, there is nothing like a good home-cooked meal,” said Armand with relish.

“Something Serge needs to work upon.” Grumbled quietly, Jean-Armand knew the others had heard him. “Don’t ever tell him where that came from or I’ll get burnt offerings sent up to my office.”

The others chuckled, just picturing the former Musketeer doing so.

“Guess I’ll see you back at the Garrison upon the morrow.” Nodding to the boy, Jean-Armand turned back to his friend after d’Artagnan’s departure. “I believe I’m going to have another éclair.” Digging back inside his box of pastries, he winked at Armand.

“Thought you soldiers had to watch your waistlines,” quipped Armand.

“We work it off believe me.” When heavenly sighs escaped Jean-Armand, his old friend simply snorted.

++++

_Outside of the Bonacieux residence_

“Think we’ll catch him?” Directing his question at the silent Constantin, Donatien kept his eyes peeled for the young Gascon.

“Deville figured the kid would have to come home sooner or later. Easy pickings I guess, according to him that is,” grunted Constantin. “For myself I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

Clough decided to chime in with his own opinion. “The only one convinced it is… is Deville. Me, I’m feeling that noose tightening around my neck all the time.”

“Hurst and Deville better have that wagon waiting for us once we grab the boy.” Donatien’s worried gaze rested upon each man in turn.

“Hey,” hissed Clough, “I think that’s the kid coming down the street now.”

At Clough’s words, all of them took up positions in their hiding spots. Darkness was descending which gave them enough cover not to be seen. Add to that, no one else was around. As the young Gascon drew closer to the Bonacieux’s home, when their chance came they took it.

Making their move, Clough pushed a reluctant Donatien out onto the street. The latter slowly approached the boy. "Pardon, Monsieur, I appear to have lost my son. Perhaps you have seen him?" While Donatien distracted the Gascon youth with a pack of lies, Constantin and Clough came up behind the lad.

Concentrating upon the distraunt man before him, d'Artagnan was shocked and dismayed when a rag was placed over the lower portion of his face, covering his nose. Inhaling the sickening sweet odor, his eyes fluttered shut. Feeling rough hands coming out to catch him, d'Artagnan couldn't find the energy or the will to fight them off. Soon his world was consumed by darkness as he passed out.

The streets were still deserted, there wasn't a nosy neighbor in sight, which made it that much easier for the men to get d'Artagnan loaded into the wagon that had just pulled up. Ripping off his disguise Donatien took the wig and fake beard and shoved them inside the wagon as well. Then they covered their victim with a heavy tarp. Once that was accomplished, they split up leaving Deville and Hurst to meet everyone back at the hideout.

++++

_About an hour later - The Bonacieux's residence_

The knocking at the their door had Constance rushing to see who it was, for they weren't expecting anyone this time of the eve. She brightened considerably, once Constance recognized Aramis. "Come inside." Closing the door behind him, she faced the Musketeer.

Removing his chapeau, Aramis dipped his head. "I stopped by to see if d'Artagnan wanted to come along with Athos, Porthos and myself to The Wren."

Scrunching her pretty face up in puzzlement, Constance stared at him. "What made you think he was here?"

"He's not?" Aramis hadn't expected that answer.

Rolling her eyes, she lightly punched his arm. "What did it sound like I said?"

"Captain Treville told us the lad had left him and the cardinal some time ago to come straight here. D'Artagnan was looking forward to sampling your culinary talents."

Now they were both concerned over the boy's whereabouts.

When Jacques came into the main room, he stopped and stared at the two of them. "Bonsoir, Aramis." Frowning, he wracked his brain trying to remember if the marksman had commissioned something from him and was here to pick it up. But nothing came to mind.

"Aramis came to see d'Artagnan," explained Constance. "Apparently the young man had been with both the captain and cardinal and told them he was coming home."

"How long ago would you say that was, Aramis?" Jacques was the type of person who tried to keep a level head when things went wrong.

"At least over an hour by now," was Aramis' clipped response. He was getting a bad feeling about this.

"Then let us go question our neighbors to see if any of them had caught sight of the lad." Putting down the fabric he held in his hands onto the sofa, Jacques followed his wife and the Musketeer outside.

++++

Another hour of questioning passed but it found all three of them highly frustrated with the answers they had been given. Splitting up to canvas the neighborhood, Aramis went in one direction and the couple stayed together and took another. It wasn't as if d'Artagnan was a stranger to these parts now. For the boy had made friends instantly with most of the neighborhood. Everyone they spoke too had only high praise for the young Gascon's manners and how the lad helped them out whenever he could. But so far no one had seen him about this eve.

"Perhaps d'Artagnan stopped somewhere else along the way to help someone," suggested Jacques, hope shining in his eyes.

"Perhaps," quietly murmured Aramis, though his dark eyes remained troubled. "I'm going to backtrack the pup's steps all the way to the Palais-Cardinal where d'Artagnan was last seen. Someone had to have noticed the boy." Dipping his head toward the couple, Aramis took off at a fast pace.

"Oh, Jacques, I do pray d'Artagnan hasn't met with foul play." Wringing her hands together, she felt her husband gently pulling them apart. Taking her by the hand, he silently led her back inside their home.

++++

_The hideout - a ramshackled building near the Cour des Miracles_

Deville sat at the table scribbling out his demands for the boy's release. It took him three tries to get the wording just the way he wanted. Glancing over at the cot in the corner of the room, where the unconscious Gascon laid, Deville grinned. All his men, himself included, kept their heads covered with a sack cloth. Cut out holes for their eyes, noses and mouths were the only features visible. Uncomfortable, oui, but it kept their identities secret. Listening to the restless movements now of the boy, Deville figured the kid was beginning to wake up.

Struggling to open his eyes, once he did, everything seemed to waver around him making his stomach roll when nausea hit him full force. Turning onto his side, d’Artagnan promptly emptied the contents of his stomach. The smell alone nearly made him want to vomit again but he swallowed the bile back down. When the room came back into focus, d’Artagnan found that he wasn’t alone. Realizing that he had been kidnapped, he asked an obvious question. “Why am I here? Wherever _here_ is," he swallowed hard. Realizing why he may have been taken, he didn't wait for an answer. "If you're expecting good coin for me you've made a poor bargain as I'm not very valuable."

“Ah but in that you would be wrong, boy," snickered Deville. "I believe Cardinal Richelieu and Captain Treville could pay rather handsomely for you.” Returning back to his writing, Deville finished the first missive. "Bien, now that I think about it perhaps Richelieu's the one with the money." Placing the ransom note in an envelope he then sealed it. Then he began working upon the next note. This one Deville didn't seal yet. Later on he would hand both missives off to one of his men to be delivered to the Palais-Cardinal and the Garrison.

His captor’s words made d’Artagnan sit up so fast that his head spun. Steadying himself, he glared at the man. “Why them in particular?”

“Playing the innocent won’t work with me, d'Artagnan,” chuckling, Deville pushed the letters off to the side. “I was recently within listening distance of some Musketeers who were exceedingly in their cups when I was over at The Wren. Lo and behold they were whispering quietly about a new, young recruit from Gascony. It would appear that the lad has lofty connections to two of the three most powerful men in France.” Observing the youngster’s head hanging down, Deville grinned evilly. “The First Minister’s pockets are deep, even if Captain Treville’s aren’t so much. I’m quite sure Richelieu would make up for the captain’s shortcomings in that respect after they receive my ransom demands."

It didn’t feel worthwhile to lie to the man, as his captor appeared to have all the information about d’Artagnan that was needed. To tell the truth, he really still wasn't feeling very well from whatever they knocked him out with. Lying back down, with an arm covering his eyes while he rubbed his still rolling stomach with his other hand, d'Artagnan wondered if the inseparables were searching for him even now. Before he could ponder more upon it, a hard yank at the crucifix he always wore made him yelp in pain as it was taken from him.

Leering over the youngster, Deville clutched the dangling cross watching it sway back and forth. "They'll want proof. I think this will do the trick." Laughing, he walked away.

Rubbing the soreness away, from where the chain had been pulled from around his neck, d'Artagnan already missed the comfort that crucifix always gave him. Certainly Oncle Armand would instantly recognize it as it had been a gift from him. Already feeling sorry for himself, he could only hope that a rescue operation wouldn't take long for his parrains to plan.

++++

_The Wren_

A booted foot kicked a drunken ruffian back outside. Leaning against the door frame, Porthos' eyes narrowed upon the man lying flat out.

"Why'd ya do that for?" the drunk asked, clearly not understanding why he was on the ground and the large Musketeer was leaning over him.

"I asked ya a simple question about d'Artagnan and all I got in return was ya askin' me to buy ya another round of drinks," grouched Porthos who then bent down to pick the man up by the scruff of his neck. "Then ya rattled on about someone else that I didn't even ask about." He shook the man, trying to get through to the drunken sod. "Everyone has the right ta be stupid... tis just that some people abuse that privilege like ya 'ave been doin'." Pushing the other man away, Porthos watched him stumble along his way down the street. A light tap upon his shoulder had him twisting his head around.

"Get anything useful out of him," asked Aramis pushing his chapeau back from his head.

"Nope. Just aggravation." As Athos joined them, Porthos noted their leader's bleak look. "Ya two got nothin' like I did?"

"Not one person has seen the boy." Despair was beginning to fill Athos. None of them knew where his protégé was, less alone know if d'Artagnan was even still alive. A road that he did not want to even contemplate. "Or at least their not willing to admit seeing the lad."

"What are you getting at, Athos?" Not wanting to play twenty questions, instead Aramis felt like shooting things... preferably the person or persons responsible for the disappearance of their youngest.

"The ones we have questioned either have been paid to keep their silence or else they are scared of whomever took the pup." Athos had hoped to have found the lad by now. Having followed Aramis immediately in his hunt, once the marksman told them that d'Artagnan appeared to be missing, Athos still had the dubious honor of informing Treville and Cardinal Richelieu that their filleul had disappeared. "This is not getting us anywhere," he huffed in disgust. "Tis time for us to report this to the captain."

"I sure ain't lookin' forward ta that," mumbled Porthos.

"Do you think any of us are?" Kicking out at an empty bench, Aramis was upset. He didn't know which was worse... going back to the Garrison without d'Artagnan or leaving the lad out there to fend for himself wherever that may be.

++++

_The Garrison_

"'E's still up there," said Porthos. Noting the glow of light he could see coming from within the captain's office. Treville was probably caught up in paperwork. There never seemed enough time for him to catch up on it during the day or so he always told them.

"Let us get this over and done with." Wishing he could get out of this but knowing otherwise, Athos forged ahead taking the steps up to the balcony two at a time.

"Athos, lest you forget, none of us are responsible for the pups disappearing into thin air," snapped Aramis.

Halting his progress Athos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know that but I do not relish informing Treville any of this without having any sort of good intel to tell him."

Aramis remained silent but understood where his brother was coming from. Once at the top of the landing, he then held his breath following Athos and Porthos through the entrance.

++++

Slamming his hand down hard on top of his desk, Treville leaned over it to glare at the inseparables. " _WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S MISSING!_ "

"It ain't our fault, Captin'." Feeling like a kid being scolded for doing something he shouldn't have, Porthos glanced away from Treville's angry face.

"D'Artagnan never made it back to Constance's." Stepping back from the fire in Treville's eyes upon his words, Aramis hoped never to have that look directed toward himself... _ever_.

"We have been canvasing the areas and questioning everyone we come across but have come up empty handed." Wishing he had more to tell his commander, Athos' lips tightened together.

Slumping back down into his chair, Treville couldn't look his men in the face any longer. He did know they were not to blame but he so wanted to place it upon someone and the inseparables just happened to be handy. Trying to ease the tense atmosphere he'd just created with his men, Treville apologized in his own way. "I didn't mean to take my anger out upon any of you. Sometimes I believe that no problem is so large or so difficult that it can't be blamed on somebody else." With a rueful shake of his head, he added, "We just have to find out whom that _somebody_ is." Running a shaky hand across his forehead, his thoughts scattered when sounds of rapping upon the door made itself known. Observing Athos go to answer it, he frowned when his lieutenant came back with what looked like an envelope in the younger man's hand. Reaching out for it Treville opened it up and let out a foul oath.

Noting how white the captain's face had become, Athos knew that whatever that letter contained it had not been good. Keeping his eyes upon Treville, he was surprised to see what appeared to be a cross fall out of the envelope into the older officer's hands.

"Captain?" Stepping forward, Aramis' eyes settled upon the crucifix. Afraid to utter a word, he waited for Treville to say something.

Dangling from Treville’s hand was a gleaming cross. "This was given to d'Artagnan from Richelieu when the lad was a mere petit garcon." Biting his lips to keep his emotions in check while in front of his men, he reverently placed the cross inside the drawer of his desk.

Noting the missive sitting by Treville’s hand, Athos had to find out what it contained. “The letter, Sir. What does it say?”

“Canailles have kidnapped d’Artagnan and are holding him for ransom.” Picking the missive back up Treville handed it over to his lieutenant.

“’Ow much for the whelp do they want, Athos?” Peering over his friend’s shoulder, Porthos squinted at the scrawl written on the flimsy sheet of paper.

“Three hundred livre.” Passing the note over to Aramis, Athos tried to contain his own rage.

“When’s the exchange ta take place?” Porthos would have loved nothing better than to get his hands upon the scumbags who had taken the kid and shake them until their bones rattled. Then he’d break the men into pieces if the pup had been hurt in any way.

“In two day’s time,” grimly replied Treville, his face set like stone. “So I’m going directly over to see the cardinal now. According to that note he was to have received the same missive as I did.”

“Do you believe Cardinal Richelieu would actually pay out the ransom demands?” Athos’ concerned gaze locked onto his captain’s.

“If I know him,” Treville’s features hardened even further, “he’ll want to pay the entire amount. Which I won’t allow even if it bankrupts me.” Retrieving his cloak and chapeau from a pegged hook, he briefly glanced at his men before departing. ‘The cardinal and I will hash out how to proceed and then make the necessary arrangements.”

“Then you will let us help during the exchange?” If Treville would not include them, Athos would still find a way to be part of their plan regardless.

“Twould be unthinkable to not involve you three,” snorted Treville. Not wasting anymore time with words, he made haste to the stables.

“I ain’t gonna sleep a wink thinkin’ about that poor kid out there without us.”

Silently echoing Porthos' sentiments, Aramis nodded his head at his friend.

"I think we better go see Constance and Jacques to tell them what has happened to the child." Another task Athos was not looking forward to but it had to be done. He knew that the couple were just as worried over the boy's fate as they all were.

So it was a somber threesome that left Captain Treville's office.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

Head hanging down, Armand pinched the bridge of his nose while thinking what to do. When Jean-Armand marched in, he waved a hand for his friend to take a chair. "I'm going to pay the ransom." Blurting out his words, Armand grimaced.

"Not without my own contributions," snapped Jean-Armand.

"I will not have you give most of your life's savings away when I can afford it without much bother," countered Armand, irritated with the other man's stubborness but that's what he should have expected coming from a full-blooded Gascon. For himself Armand was a mix of Spanish and Gascon. Something of which only his family and close friends knew and don't spread around for obvious reasons.

" _Mon Dieu!_ " Tightening his lips together, Jean-Armand glared daggers at Armand. Then remembering what had accompanied the missive, he sighed. "They sent me d'Artagnan's crucifix. The one you gave him."

Eyes narrowing, until they were mere slits, Armand growled low. "Where is it?" Not understanding why they sent the cross to Jean-Armand and not to him directly, his anger grew.

"I've put it in my desk for safe keeping and intend to make sure it gets back to its rightful owner." Exchanging a determined look with his friend, Jean-Armand leaned forward in his chair. "They want us to meet them on Rue Saint-Denis."

"Excellent place for an exchange do you not think?" Drumming his long fingers upon his Bible, Armand shook his head. "Prostitutes, voleurs and d'Artagnan. What a fine mess this is." Just then Jean-Armand's expression changed and Armand wondered what was going through the man's mind.

"I believe we have a few contacts in that area that may be of use to us." Contemplating this, Jean-Armand thought perhaps they could retrieve d'Artagnan and catch the canailles that have him in one fell swoop.

"Know many prostitutes do you?" quipped Armand, even though his heart was heavy.

"Only the ones that have helped my men in the past." Arching a brow, Jean-Armand grinned. "And I don't mean with sexual favors."

" _Ah!_ " There was a wealth of understanding behind that one word. Smiling, Armand remarked, "Then tis to be hoped that your men are at their most charming on the morrow."

"My inseparables usually are." Pausing, Jean-Armand frowned. "Bien, perhaps Athos could use a bit more polish when it came to dealing with prostitutes." Amused upon his own thoughts, he winked at Armand. "Then again that's what we have Aramis for." His friend's quiet huff of laughter filled Jean-Armand with hope.

++++

_Notes:_

_Oncle_ – uncle  
_Parrains_ – godfathers  
_Chocolat_ – chocolate  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Cour des Miracles_ \- Court of Miracles  
_Petit garcon_ \- little boy  
_Canailles_ \- scoundrels  
_Voleurs_ \- thieves

 _Quote: "Everyone has the right to be stupid... it's just that some people abuse that privilege."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: ""Sometimes I believe that no problem is so large or so difficult that it can't be blamed on somebody else."_ \- from Maxine.

FierGascon had to help me with the amount I wanted for the ransom. I tried looking up conversion tables on-line but it was all too confusing. As I wanted Deville and company to ask for the French equivalent of around $10,000, figuring Richelieu at least could afford that amount. So that amount converts to around 300 livre or close enough.

Now remember I've changed Richelieu's history around. Having him from Gascony and now stating he's a mix of Spanish and Gascon. Just in case for those of you that have forgotten. Don't want to get you guys confused. LOL!

 _Rue Saint-Denis_ is one of the oldest streets in Paris. From the Middle Ages to the present day, the street has been notorious as a place of prostitution. Its name derives from it being the historic route to Saint-Denis. The street extends as far as the 1st arrondissement and Rue de Rivoli to the south and as far as the 2nd arrondissement and the boulevard Saint-Denis to the north. It runs parallel to the boulevard de Sébastopol.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_The next day, mid morn – the questionable streets of Rue Saint-Denis_

“Bonjour, Musketeer.” Leaning against a lamp post Désirée batted her long eyelashes at the handsome soldier, making sure her generous assets were upon display for his pleasure. “Can I interest you in anything you see?”

At his most charming, Aramis dipped his head at the prostitute. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle.” Pointing toward his companions, he pressed on. “My comrades and I seek information involving a young friend of ours who has suddenly,” he snapped his fingers, “disappeared into thin air.” Immediately Aramis noted her facial features begin to shut down. She then began backing away from him as if he’d had the plague. To which, thank God, he didn’t have. As the woman made her way across the street, Aramis went back to join his friends.

“That’s a first,” whispered Porthos who was standing close to Athos. “Never saw any woman get away that fast from Mis before.” Grinning, he added, “Unless ‘er 'usband was after ‘er.”

Rolling his eyes, Athos crossed his arms. “Instead of frightening them, Aramis, seek out your contacts.” Listening to Porthos begin teasing the marksman, Athos faced the larger man. Glowering at him, he snapped. “You also instead of yammering about Aramis’ ways with women.”

“What are you going to do while we’re doing all the work?” Aramis stared curiously at his older brother.

"I have contacts of my own that I shall seek out." With a smug look Athos pulled his chapeau lower, nearly covering his eyes, and nonchalantly began walking down the street.

A hard nudge in his side had Aramis frowning. "What?" Glaring at Porthos, he huffed.

"Do as the man ordered and get a move on." His large hand gave a gentle shove to the other man's back. After that, Porthos went one way while Aramis headed off in another direction.

++++

_La Taverne de la Dame Nue_

Reaching his destination, Aramis entered the house of ill repute and began chatting up several of the working ladies there. Francesca and Chloé knew their way around, in more ways than one. When he had finished speaking with them, Aramis dropped some coins into each of their open palms. Though Francesca had something more in mind, as she slipped her hand inside his doublet. "Nice as this would probably be, Francesca, the timing isn't right." He removed her hand as gently as he could. "I have to locate my petit frere."

Her lips forming a mue, Francesca then smiled wickedly. "Later then, Aramis." A coquettish tinkle of laughter escaped her, as she counted the money the Musketeer had given her.

Regrettably leaving her and the establishment behind, Aramis was more than satisfied with the information he had gained. Having gotten what he'd come for, he went in search of Porthos and Athos.

++++

Finally locating Porthos, who was standing in front of a building that had seen better days, the closer Aramis came to his friend he noted that Porthos appeared quite disturbed.

Turning his head slightly, Porthos spotted the marksman coming toward him. "Ya know 'ow ya can slap certain things repeatedly ta get them ta work?"

Scratching his chin, Aramis tilted his head in thought. "Not sure where you're going with this."

Huffing out a low oath, hands upon hips, Porthos glared back at the marksman. "I mean don't ya wish ya could do that with certain people, Mis?"

Chuckling, Aramis realized what Porthos was referring to. "Couldn't get the information you wanted, mon frere?" The look his larger friend treated him to was all the answer he required.

"What about ya?" Out of the three of them Aramis was the one Porthos depended upon to get what they needed, regarding the whereabouts of this gang they're hunting. Hopefully twould lead them to the whelp.

"Francesca told me that there's a man that goes by the name of Deville that's been trying to shake down the prostitutes to get whatever coin he could from them."

"Sounds like a right nice fellow my fists would like ta meet up with," remarked Porthos with an evil grin.

"Deville also has four cohorts that work with him." That bit of information, Aramis noted, appeared to fill Porthos with glee.

"Five against three... odds are in our favor then." Chuckling at the raised brows aimed at him, Porthos slapped his friend hard upon the back.

"Now this doesn't mean that those men were involved in d'Artagnan's kidnapping." Pointing that out, Aramis held up a hand. "But it does give us a good starting point." Wondering how Athos was doing, he didn't have long to wait as the older man came walking down the street.

Spying bruised and slightly bleeding knuckles Aramis' lips pursed, along with Porthos' long low whistle. "Been making more friends as usual, mon frere?" he cheerily chirped, earning him an icy glare back which wiped his expression clean.

"Tis funny how people always note the change in your attitude towards them but never note their behavior that made you change." A roll of Athos' shoulders, along with the cracking of his sore knuckles, helped him to feel better.

"Didn't go so well then?" Wishing he had gone along with Athos, so as Porthos could have had some fun bashing in heads, Aramis figured their leader had come up empty.

"It did not go so well for Sebastien as it had done for me." A slight smile graced Athos' features. "There is a man that goes by the name of ..." Interrupted by Aramis, he scowled at the marksman.

" _Deville_ " As Athos' scowl deepened, Aramis quickly said his piece. "I managed to coerce Francesca into divulging that much."

Knowing that Aramis had paid the prostitute for that information, Athos did not care. "Did she also tell you where they are hiding out?" Impatient now, Athos noted Aramis' deepening frown. "Or did she hold out for more money?"

"Non." Shaking his head, Aramis sighed. "Francesca didn't know where they were."

"I s'pose those bruised knuckles of yours got our answer." Wanting to put his own fists to good use, Porthos was all ears.

Athos had just wanted to hear if Aramis had garnered the same details he had done. Since his brother had not, he answered Porthos' question. "Tis a hovel near the Court. We should not have any trouble finding out which one when we go about questioning everyone that works the markets in that area."

"That's what ya think," blurted out Porthos. "We'll go broke 'avin' ta bribe all of 'em for intel."

With an ever broadening smirk, along with a raised brow, Athos stared at the larger man. With one hand upon the hilt of his rapier, and the other tapping his main gauche, he countered. "I believe we shall hold the upper hand as always."

++++

_Outside the Cour des Miracles_

Emile knew all about Deville and his cut-purses. Always bringing trouble to those living in the Court. Because of him and his crew, Red Guards and Musketeers regularly patrolled the area more than usual. Though Emile had to say that the Musketeers treated his people much better than those red capes ever did.

Having heard rumors that Deville had taken a young Musketeer recruit, Emile's thought immediately turned to d'Artagnan. The would-be soldier had been kind to him and he wanted to repay that kindness. Knowing where Deville's hideout was, Emile slipped out of the Court, weaving in and out amongst the stalls of the marketplace to then get lost in the crowd.

++++

_Rue Saint-Denis_

Watching the prostitutes plying their trade, Deville was oblivious to the fact that Musketeers were closing in. All he could think upon was the money they would get for the kid. Exchanging pleasantries with Vivian, he was sorry to decline her obvious charms. His sexual desires would have to be put to the side, until he had the business of the ransom over and done with. Deville didn’t think it possible that his demands wouldn’t be met. After all the boy supposedly meant a lot to both Captain Treville and the First Minister of France. They’d pay up big and then Deville and his men would be living high off the hog.

What Deville didn’t know was that things were being set in motion to upset his apple cart.

++++

_Deville’s hide out_

Being nothing more than a petit garcon had its advantages. Emile could easily get in and out of places that adults normally couldn’t manage. Approaching Deville’s sanctuary from the back of the building, he found several loose boards and was able to yank them free without making much noise. Squeezing his body through the opening, he crawled upon his hands and knees.

Finding himself behind a bunch of broken crates made it easier to stay hidden from sight. It took a full minute for Emile’s eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. Looking around, he spotted d’Artagnan bound and gagged laying upon a dirty cot. From his position, it was hard to tell if the Gascon was unharmed. Still Emile hoped for the best, as he was risking his own neck in this venture.

If he were to attempt a rescue, Emile would have to wait until the room was completely empty. Right now, there were two men inside sitting at a table playing cards. Glancing back over his shoulder at the opening he’d created, Emile wondered if d’Artagnan would be able to escape through it. The Gascon seemed to be slim enough for it. If they attempted leaving the normal way, they would soon be caught. Emile supposed he hadn’t thought this whole rescue thing through. There hadn’t been much use for prayers, living in the Court but Emile now found himself sending up a few to whomever would listen. It was sure beginning to look like they’d need it.

++++

Late morn found the inseparables staring out the window of a derelict building, across the street from where Francesca told them Deville and his men had been staying.

"So 'ow we gonna 'andle this?" asked Porthos. "There's two of 'em out front. Probably the lookouts."

"What we don't know is if the remaining three are still inside." Aramis' sharp gaze didn't miss that those two men were armed with pistols and poignards in their belts. Bien, he and his brothers were armed too and had more incentive to fight than those canailles could ever imagine.

"I say let's take our chances and walk right over there ts take them two 'ead on." Cracking his knuckles, Porthos laughed. "Been awhile since I got ta make anyone see reason at the end of my fists."

"What was the other day's training session with poor Garet all about then," remarked Athos. "I would say your hand-to-hand training was a tad more enthusiastic than was necessary."

"Poor Garet was covered in bruises if I recall correctly," teased Aramis, with a sly look in Porthos' direction.

Ignoring them, Porthos flexed his fingers. It never hurt to be prepared.

"Athos," whispered Aramis. "Do we have a plan yet?"

Sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose, Athos shook his head. "I am still contemplating how to proceed without getting the pup injured into the bargain."

"I should have brought a book to read." Rolling his eyes, Aramis made himself comfortable sitting on top of an overturned barrel.

Taking a cue from his friend Porthos did the same, folding his arms and quietly staring at Athos' back.

"You know that I can feel you both staring at me?" Athos' piercing gaze locked onto his brother's somewhat amused faces. "Tis not helping."

"Porthos, mon ami, by any chance do you have a deck of cards?" When Athos got like this, Aramis had learned that patience was a virtue.

Reaching into the pocket of his doublet, Porthos chuckled. "I never leave the Garrison without 'em."

"Good man. Let's get to it then." Moving off the barrel, Aramis dusted off the flat surface of a broken table that had been shoved up against one of the crumbling walls. "I think this will do." While Porthos started shuffling the cards, Aramis hoped it wouldn't take very long for Athos to come up with a solution to their dilemma. No doubt their youngest was waiting for them to come charging to the rescue. After all, they did have a reputation to protect.

++++

_Back inside Deville’s hideout_

Pulling out a small pebble from his torn pocket, Emile gently threw it at d'Artagnan's head. Watching as the Gascon jerked in surprise, twisting his head to the side to see what was going on, Emile waved a hand when d'Artagnan spotted him. Now all he had to do was cause a distraction so those two men would go outside. But what incentive could Emile come up with so that they would leave? It hadn't taken long for an idea to come but it required him to leave again.

Indicating to d'Artagnan that he was going back outside, the small nod from the Gascon told Emile that the young soldier had understood. What he had in mind would require some extra help. So as soon as Emile wriggled his body back through the opening he took off. His destination was La Taverne de la Dame Nue where he knew some of the women there. They would oftentimes give him food or candy, whenever Emile bothered to stop by. If all went the way he wanted it to, his debt would then be paid to d'Artagnan.

++++

_Notes:_

_Cour des Miracles_ \- Court of Miracles  
_Canailles_ \- scoundrels

 _Poignards_ \- daggers

 _La Taverne de la Dame Nue_ \- The Naked Lady Tavern. Thanks once again to my French teacher - FierGascon, for helping me make sure I had the correct translation down.

 _Quote: "You know how you can slap certain things repeatedly to get them to work? Don't you wish you could do that with certain people?"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "It's funny how people always notice the change in your attitude towards them but never notice their behavior that made you change."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a rather short chapter but I wanted to put this up now. I'm on a porch vacation this coming week so hopefully I'll get more up... or not (grins). Depending on what I'm going to be doing.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same place… same time… same problem_

_La Taverne de la Dame Nue_

“What’s in it for us, petit?” asked Francesca, talking to the top of the boy’s head.

“I’m sure the Musketeer’s captain would pay you for helping d’Artagnan out of the fix he’s in.” Itching to get back to the young soldier again, Emile nervously bit his lip.

“I guess we could give it a go, eh, Francesca?” said Chloé. Her bright eyes were twinkling with mischief. Can’t say I like any of Deville’s men to begin with. They’re all cheapskates anyway.”

“Merci for helping me.” Pleased he had talked them into it, Emile led the way outside. “I managed to tear some boards loose in the back so I’m going inside that way again. When both of you cause a distraction I’m hoping to get d’Artagnan out that same way without us getting caught.”

“How many are there, Emile?” Exchanging a long look with Francesca, Chloé kept her gaze upon the precocious imp they had always thought well of.

“There are two inside with d’Artagnan and I spotted two more of them right outside the hideout when I left to come here.”

Bumping her hip against Chloé's, Francesca grinned. “The more the merrier I guess.”

Listening to the women laugh, Emile’s heart felt lighter. His plan was going to work, he just knew it.

++++

_Deville’s hideout_

“Looks like we got company.” Watching the slow sway of feminine hips, Clough licked his lips. A slow grin then spread across his rough features, as a pair of jade green eyes sized him up and down the closer she got to him. “Do I pass inspection?”

Chloé sidled up close. Whispering into his ear, she teased, “You’ll do for what I have in mind.”

“How about me?” As the other prostitute leaned into him, Hurst squeezed her waist bringing the other lovely thing into closer contact with his large body.

“Oh I don’t think you’ll have a thing to worry about once I’m done with you,” purred Francesca, running a perfectly manicured fingernail teasingly down the side of his face.

“Anymore like you two around?” Keeping up the pretense of being interested, Chloé's eyes glanced at the closed door behind her.

“Aren’t we more than enough?” Going in for a kiss, Clough winked at her.

Francesca, who was practically draped over the man she was with, gave a throaty chuckle. “Ever heard of backup?”

“ _Backup!_ ” Puzzled, Hurst’s eyes slid toward Clough. The latter’s brows were drawn together as he too seemed to have missed the woman’s point.

Pressing a hard kiss to his mouth, Francesca gave him a sassy wink. “Oui, in case we tire the both of you out.”

Hurst couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that. Instead he drew her closer, as much as possible, then was surprised when she shoved at his shoulder.

Pushing the man away from her, Francesca chuckled. “I believe introductions are called for first before we all lose our heads.” The one holding her grinned, exposing a gap between his two front teeth.

“I’m Hurst and that one there’s Clough.” Pulling her back into his arms, he placed a kiss upon the side of her neck. “Now how are we to address you and your lovely companion?”

“Francesca,” she pointed to herself and my friend’s Chloé.”

While Francesca was talking, Chloé worried upon how to get the other men out of that building so Emile could pull off his plan. As she pondered this, an idea came to mind. “Why don’t we all go back to the taverne?”

“Now I like the sound of that,” said Clough anticipating the delights that were sure to follow.

“Yeah. We could get Constantin and Donatien to stand guard in our places.” Staring at the door, Hurst couldn’t wait to drag them out here.

“Kid can’t move the way he’s all trussed up,” whispered Clough, so as the women wouldn’t hear him. Patting Chloe’s derriere a few times, he signaled for Hurst to go inside the building.

Shortly after, Hurst came back out. “They grumbled a bit about not getting some of our action but they’re coming.”

“Later, we could set them up with some of our other girls.” Breathing a sigh of relief, Chloé observed the other men joining them.

Hurst could tell his friends were none too pleased. Going over to them he spoke in hushed tones. It only took a few minutes but Hurst felt that he'd left them well contented.

When Hurst came back, Clough remarked, "Whatever you said to them seems to have put them in a better mood."

Slapping the other man's back, Hurst pointed towards the prostitutes. "I told them about Chloé's offer and now they're happy." Noting the come-hither looks the women were giving them, Hurst gave Clough a hard shove to get the man moving in the direction of the taverne.

++++

Emile could have danced a jig at how well Francesca and Chloé had played their part. Quietly he made his way over to d'Artagnan. Untying him Emile pressed a finger to his own lips, showing the Gascon that talking now would not go over well.

Making sure that d'Artagnan was following him, Emile took him to the opening he had made in the back of the building. Indicating that they were going to have to crawl their way out Emile frowned when the young soldier made a face. "Do you want to get out of here or not?" he hissed into d'Artagnan's ear.

"I don't think I'll fit."

Emile's eyes bounced back and forth between the opening and d'Artagnan's tall, lean frame. Sighing, he figured they'd just have to risk it. "Go first. If you get stuck I'll help push you from behind."

Eyeing the child rather dubiously, d'Artagnan's lips thinned. Then with a careless shrug he decided not to waste anymore precious time. "Here goes nothing," he murmured.

++++

Across the street, inside the building where the inseparables were keeping watch, Athos started when noting the prostitutes enticing some of Deville's men away. Pleased that two of their problems were now out of the way, he knew that it still left two or three more inside with his protégé. Either way, the odds have improved in their favor.

"Aramis... Porthos..." Looking over at his friends, Athos waited for them to give him their attention. "Those two," he pointed to the guards that were now leaving, "are taking off with a couple of prostitutes." Stabbing Aramis with a strange look, he added, "Oddly enough they appear to be the same ones that you just spoke with."

"Coincidence," replied Aramis who went back to concentrating upon the hand he held, trying to keep Porthos from sneaking a peek at it.

"There is no such thing as _coincidence_ in my book," firmly countered Athos. "Besides their moving out of the way has just given us a tactical advantage."

Throwing down his cards, Porthos grinned. " _Finally!_ " Shoving his chair back, he cracked his knuckles once more. "Time ta bash some 'eads together." Earning a round of chuckles from his brothers, Porthos folded his arms. "There's just one thing."

Athos raised a brow in question.

"If'n we walk over there fully armed, and wearin' our pauldrons, things could go bad for d'Art."

"I can safely say that not a soul's been in this place for quite awhile," commented Athos. "I believe we can leave our pauldrons behind." Removing his first, Athos continued. "As far as our weapons are concerned," he glanced at their pistols and rapiers, "we blend in well with the other riff raff around here."

"Athos is correct," readily agreed Aramis. "We'd look out of place here unarmed." Then he appeared perturbed for a few seconds. Waving a hand airily, Aramis glared at the older man. "I do, however, disagree over being compared to _riff raff_ though."

"Sometimes ya just think too much of yourself, Mis." A short bark of laughter escaped Porthos, while he too removed his pauldron. Taking all of their pauldrons he hid them in one of the empty barrels that was in the room. "Could we go crack some skulls together now?" Aramis simply laughed at his question, while Athos shook his head and sighed.

++++

Back inside the hideout d'Artagnan somehow managed to get himself halfway through the narrow opening and as he feared... got stuck. Annoyed with himself, and for the moment everything in general, d'Artagnan wished he could have shouted out his frustration to the heavens. However, the petit wouldn't let him wallow in misery for very long. Emile, he could hear, was cursing a blue streak making d'Artagnan's eyebrows lift up in shock. Knowing where the child lived, it shouldn't have been surprising to him.

For Emile's part he put both of his hands upon d'Artagnan's rear and pushed hard. It must have worked because the Gascon started shimmying the rest of his body out the other end. Emile's relief was great and soon he found himself joining d'Artagnan. Pointing to a back alley, they both made their escape. Glad to be gone from here, Emile wondered at the anger that Deville would feel once the man discovered that his meal ticket had flown the coop.

++++

"Heads up," muttered Constantin to Donatien noting three strangers heading their way. His hand rested upon the pistol he was never without, ready to use it if needed. His friend was doing the same thing as him. Around here it paid to have eyes in the back of your head, and walking around weaponless only added to an invitation to be challenged or robbed. Either of those could find you dead and lying in a pool of your own blood. So both of them eyed the newcomers warily.

"Excusez-moi, Messieurs." Stepping off the street, Athos looked one of the men dead in the eye. "We are new to the area and were wondering where to find a place to stay."

"Yeah," grunted Porthos. "We're hot, dusty and out of sorts and would like ta rest."

"For myself," winked Aramis, with a devilish twinkle in his eyes, "it wouldn't go amiss for some feminine companionship."

Smirks crossed the faces of both Donatien and Constantin upon hearing that. It was something they were both looking forward to later themselves.

"We could recommend several places that I believe you'd all find satisfactory." Those were the last words Donatien uttered, before all hell broke out.

++++

_Notes:_

_La Taverne de la Dame Nue_ \- The Naked Lady Tavern.  
_Excusez-moi_ \- excuse me


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Still the same place, almost noon now... problem nearly solved and another beginning  
_

Donatien found himself slammed up against the building, with a strong hand at his throat threatening to choke off his air supply, staring into fiercely dark eyes of the giant that accompanied the other two strangers. Suddenly he then felt himself airborne, thrown down to the ground, and his face planted in the dirt. A heavy pressure upon his back kept Donatien where he was. There was not a hope in moving, as every time he tried the pressure became all that more intolerable. With his face still eating dirt, he could hear Constantin's struggle and knew that his friend wasn't faring any better.

While Porthos was having his bit of fun, Aramis and Athos toyed with the other man. He watched as Athos' fist solidly connected with the canaille's jaw. A distinct crack could be heard which caused Porthos to slowly smile.

"I would advise you to surrender now before I rearrange your face," spat Athos. A tapping upon his shoulder made him glance down at the hand laying there. Glaring at it, as if it were a pesky insect, he shrugged it off.

"I would like to put the fear of God into him as well, Athos." Arms akimbo, Aramis returned his brother's hardened look. When his friend released and then shoved the man in his direction, Aramis laughed. Holding the dazed and obviously confused canaille at arms length, he made a big show of dusting the man off. Gently patting the right side of the cut-purse's face, Aramis cheekily winked at him. Having taken the kidnapper off guard, he then drew back his arm letting go with a powerful punch to the canaille's unprotected stomach. Observing the poor sod clutching the abused area, he kicked out at the man's legs.

Both Athos and Aramis observed the cut-purse writhing upon the ground, quite near where Porthos was standing over his victim. However, their larger friend was still tormenting the one he was dealing with by kicking the canaille over and over again in the ribs.

"You two better pray that I find d'Artagnan unhurt!" growled Athos using his lieutenant's voice. The one that had recruits trembling in their boots.

It was then that the other shoe had dropped upon the heads of the hapless duo consisting of Donatien and Constantin. Both men closed their eyes, realizing then that these strangers were actually the king's Musketeers come to bring one of their own back where he belonged. In other words... they were doomed.

" _ARAMIS! PORTHOS_! Tie them up! I am going to get our pup!" Neither of his brothers put up an argument over Athos going in first. He felt that they probably knew better than to bicker with him. Kicking the door open, he burst into the room. Scouring the area, his brows knitted together. " _D'ARTAGNAN!_ " he bellowed. Not seeing his protégé anywhere, Athos started to believe that this was the wrong place. But when his eyes rested upon the cot in the room he noted several lengths of rope strewn on top of it, along with a filthy rag that could have been used as a gag. Feeling his companions enter the room, behind him, Athos stood rooted to the spot.

"So where's the kid?" Gaze roaming about the place, Porthos frowned. "What were those two guardin' if'n the whelp wasn't inside 'ere?"

Tipping back his chapeau, Aramis' eyes narrowed upon spying the cot. Turning his head he caught the dismay covering Athos' features. "Perhaps our youngest worked his bonds free and is hiding in here waiting to make his escape."

"The place is not that big and surely the boy could tell the difference between friend or foe." Kicking out at one of the chairs, making it tip over onto its side, Athos winced. "D'Artagnan would have answered us by now if he were still here and give us some peace of mind."

Exchanging worried looks with Porthos, Aramis scratched at his beard. Carefully picking his way across the room, filled with crates, barrels and what nots, he caught sight of a bit of daylight filtering in from the back of the building. Holding up a hand, he motioned for his friends to follow him. Stopping before the gaping hole in the wall, Aramis clucked his tongue. "It would appear that Deville's men were woefully lax in doing their job."

"The whelp's escaped!" Rubbing his hands together in glee, Porthos' grin nearly split his face. ""E 'ad ta of 'ad some 'elp though."

"I have to wonder how the lad got himself through that opening," mused Aramis, thinking out loud.

"Thing is," blue eyes flashing with impatience, Athos snapped, "where did the child go?"

++++

Approaching his hideout Deville couldn't help but spot Constantin and Donatien dangling in the air, tied up to one of the lampposts. Looking up at them he knew that his chances of getting any answers to his unspoken questions would come to naught, since both of them were unconscious. Hearing voices coming from inside their hideout, Deville made haste and ran across the street.

Observing three men coming out of the building, Deville scrutinized them as best he could from his position. Not recognizing them, he still watched as they too crossed the street to go into one of the buildings he knew was abandoned. His shock came when a few minutes later they all came back out with their pauldrons proudly displayed upon their shoulders.

Deville now understood everything, or nearly everything, but was perplexed over why d'Artagnan wasn't with them. If those Musketeers had overpowered his men... where was the boy?" Not only that puzzle needed to be solved but Deville wondered what happened to Clough and Hurst. They must still be in the building, probably just as knocked out as the other two.

If the Musketeers didn't have the young Gascon yet, perhaps there was still a chance that Deville could salvage something out of this mess. He didn't think the boy had a chance to get to know this area very well, being new to Paris. So it stood to reason that d'Artagnan would be easier to find. With that thought in mind, Deville skulked back into his hiding spot until it was safe enough for him to leave.

++++

"Porthos, I need you to locate a runner to send word to Treville that we caught two of them so far and need some more men to come take them back to the Bastille," ordered Athos. "Also I need for you to stay here and wait for them."

"And what are ya two doin' while I'm babysittin', eh?" Disgruntled at being left behind, Porthos stabbed Athos with an irritated look.

"Going back to that taverne to see Aramis' lady friends." With a roll of his eyes toward the marksman, Athos smartly turned upon his heels to head down the street.

Knowing Porthos didn't like being left out of their fun, but also knowing there was nothing he could do about it, Aramis gave his brother a sympathetic pat to the man's back. Then quickly departing he ran to catch up to Athos.

++++

_La Taverne de la Dame Nue_

Not really eager to take Clough and Hurst up to their rooms, Francesca and Chloé stalled for time by plying the men with drink.

"Do you think we could get them drunk enough that they'd think they had bedded us?" whispered Chloé, staring in distaste at Clough.

"Perhaps," Francesca glanced over at one of the liquor cabinets behind the buvette, "I could do one better and slip something into their lagers that would put them to sleep."

"Oh you wicked girl." Giggling softly, Chloé's eyes danced. Knowing she needed to distract them, Chloé made sure a nice amount of skin was upon display as she sashayed her way over to their table. Small, nonsensical talk, was her forte. So while keeping Hurst and Clough occupied it gave Francesca time to put sleeping draughts into their drinks.

"Here you go, boys." Placing a lager in front of both men, Francesca hoped they'd drink them right away. Which they did much to her delight. Shortly after, their heads dropped to the table with a resounding thud. Glancing at her friend, Francesca chuckled. "Works like a charm every time."

"While they're out cold maybe we could check their pockets to see if they have any money tucked away," suggested Chloé.

"Always the greedy one." Hugging the other woman to her side, Francesca nodded her assent.

++++

_Elsewhere_

"Where are we going?" hissed d'Artagnan to the petit. He was completely lost but realized that Emile knew exactly where they were.

"The only place you'll be safe until your friends can find you," replied Emile.

"Give me a hint will you?" Feeling cross with the child, d'Artagnan huffed.

Rolling his eyes at the soldier, Emile grinned. "The Court of course."

Coming to an immediate halt, d'Artagnan was stunned. "I don't know if I'd be welcome there, Emile."

"You saved me and also gave me some money. That's worth a lot to someone like me, d'Artagnan." Tugging at the Gascon's sleeve, to get him moving, Emile didn't want to stay in one spot for long.

What the petit had just said meant an awful lot to d'Artagnan as well. Without peppering Emile further with useless questions, he meekly trailed after the boy.

++++

_La Taverne de la Dame Nue_

Having a good laugh over the trick they had pulled, Francesca and Chloé quickly composed themselves when Athos and Aramis made an appearance again.

"We have just came from Deville's place and took care of two of his cronies." Noting two other men, no doubt in their cups despite the hour of the day, Athos decided they were not of significance and ignored them. It was not until Francesca pointed out something of great interest to him that he paid any heed.

"These ones are also part of Deville's gang." Amusement lit up Francesca's attractive features. Noting the twitch of Aramis' lips, she assumed he was sharing the same feeling.

Stymied, Athos stared at the men. "May I ask what their presence here means as I believed they would have been needed to help guard d'Artagnan?"

"You see twas all Emile's idea," put in Chloé.

" _Emile_!" Both Aramis and Athos exclaimed at the same time, totally stunned at this news.

"What the deuce does that child have to do with this?" Removing his chapeau, Athos decided to sit down. He did not believe he could deal with anymore surprises today. "Aramis keep an eye on those two while I hear them out."

A smirk graced Aramis' handsome face, as he pulled out his pistol. "Easiest assignment I've had all month." Going over to the table he sat down opposite the unconscious duo. Leaning back in his chair, Aramis placed his legs upon the table. Letting his pistol rest on top of one of his legs, he kept it trained upon them.

"You have my undivided attention, Mesdemoiselles." While Athos listened intently to their story, uneasiness filled him. What other trouble would his protégé stumble into following that petit from the Court? Passing a shaking hand over his brow, while trying to think upon his next move, Athos heard the cut-purses groaning.

Having also heard what the ladies had to say, Aramis inclined his head. "Things appear in bit of a muddle, eh, mon frere?" When his friend remained silent, he pressed on. "N'est-ce pas?" A heavy sigh was all the response Aramis received to his query.

Gaining his feet slowly, Athos turned back to Francesca. "Have you any type of rope handy so that we could tie them up?"

"Oui. Just a moment." Going behind the buvette she came back out with some thick, braided cord. Handing it over Francesca stood aside observing the soldiers taking care of Clough and Hurst.

When the Musketeers had finished, Chloé approached Aramis and whispered into his ear.

Athos was having none of that today. "Aramis, save your tête-à-tête for some other time." Watching Chloé's moue of disappointment, he could not wait to depart from here. Upon noting Aramis lifting the woman's hand to place a kiss upon it, Athos rolled his eyes. It never ends with the marksman.

"Remember, ma chere, I'm always at your disposal." Sending Chloé a saucy wink, he joined Athos at the door. "I'll go see if our comrades have arrived yet and send some of them over here for our sleeping beauties."

Before Athos could say a thing, the marksman departed. More than likely his friend did not want to be upon the receiving end of another lecture. There was a time and place for Aramis' amorous pursuits. Since Athos was standing upon his last nerve, his brother was lucky that he had not ordered him back to the Garrison. Would not that have made Treville's day?

With Francesca standing beside him, Athos gave her a careless shrug of one shoulder. "Have you ever felt like you have done everything right..." he spread his arms out wide, "and yet it still went wrong?"

Oh oui," she chuckled. "All the time, Athos." A fond memory came to her and Francesca shared it with him. "Maman always used to say that non matter how good or bad your life is right now, wake up each morn and be thankful you still have one."

"Words to live by," murmured Athos. "She was a wise woman."

"Mmmmm." Softly humming, Francesca gave the Musketeer a grateful smile.

With lingering concern over his protégé's fate Athos was relieved when several other soldiers came to take away the cut-purses. Bidding adieu to the women he stepped outside where Porthos and Aramis were waiting. "We need to find d'Artagnan. Preferably before Deville does."

"Beats standin' around twiddlin' our thumbs." Having collected their horses, Porthos was itching for some more action.

"I've filled Porthos in about Emile helping the pup," said Aramis.

"Then I do not have to repeat myself." Walking over to Roger, Athos gazed at his companions. "First we have to think like that child. Where would Emile take the lad?" At once the unwelcome answer came to him and his brothers.

The revelation had the three Musketeers quickly mounting up and racing through the streets, praying all the while that within the Court their youngest would be safe from Deville's treachery.

++++

_Notes:_

_Canaille_ \- scoundrel  
_La Taverne de la Dame Nue_ \- The Naked Lady Tavern  
_Mesdemoiselles_ \- plural for Mademoiselle  
_Cut-purses_ \- cut throats  
_N'est-ce pas_ \- isn't it true?  
_Buvette_ \- bar  
_Tête-à-tête_ \- intimate conversation  
_Moue_ \- pout

 _Quote: "Have you ever felt like you done everything right... and it still went freakin' wrong?"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "No matter how good or bad your life is right now, wake up each morning and be thankful you still have one."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Somewhere after one p.m. or thereabouts - Cour des Miracles_

"Emile, slow down!" complained d'Artagnan, who must have bumped into nearly every person and obstacle along the way, while trying to keep the child in sight.

Over his shoulder, Emile frowned at the young soldier. "We don't know that we weren't followed." He motioned with his arm for d'Artagnan to keep up. "Now hurry!"

When eventually they arrived at the Court's entrance, d'Artagnan hesitated to go in. He hadn't known this was their destination. Recognizing the same two men standing guard that had been there before, he gave them a shy wave and tried for a pleasant smile.

" _Emile!_ " barked Lambert, "what's the big idea of bringing him here?"

Explaining to both Lambert and Phelipe what had happened, Emile took d'Artagnan's arm and tugged him past the two burly men before they could stop them.

"You know Emile's becoming a bit of a handful lately." Phelipe's gaze followed the young Gascon, and the petit, until he lost track of them.

"The boy's Flea's problem since she took over his care after Michelle's death." Uneasy over what Emile had divulged, Lambert was going to keep a sharp eye out for trouble that went by the name of... _Deville_.

++++

" _Whoa, Emile!_ " With her gaze locked upon the petit, Flea didn't pay any attention to whom was with the child. "Runnin' from trouble ya created again, eh?"

Rolling his eyes at her Emile exchanged a brief irritated look with d'Artagnan, the latter of whom appeared very amused. "I'm getting tired of being accused of stuff I haven't even done."

"Mademoiselle." Dipping his head, d'Artagnan acknowledged the young woman and introduced himself. "My name's d'Artagnan. I'm new recruit in service to His Majesty's Musketeers."

"May I ask why you're 'ere and with Emile?" Studying the youth, Flea noted how nervous he appeared.

"I was kidnapped for ransom by someone named Deville." Evidentally she was well aware of the name, judging by the scowl that covered her attractive features. "Emile was returning a favor by helping me out of a bad situation." Shooting the petit a slightly angry look, d'Artagnan tacked on, "A _favor_ I didn't ask for because he could have been seriously hurt."

" _Oh!_ " she exclaimed. "So you're the _one_." Snapping her fingers, as the youngster's identity finally registered, Flea graced him with one of her rare smiles. "I've been told 'ow ya 'elped Emile and the kindness ya showed 'im later." Tenderly running her fingers through the petit's longish hair, she smiled again but it soon turned into a concerned frown. "Deville's a batard of the first order."

After what d'Artagnan's been through, he hadn't a doubt about Deville's character. "I don't want to be the cause of any problems for anyone here and think I should leave right away." When Emile angrily stomped upon d'Artagnan's right foot, his immediate reaction was to retaliate in kind. Holding himself back from doing so, he simply grimaced at the pain instead.

"After all that trouble I went through to free you!" huffed Emile, "you want to go back out into the streets to advertise to that maniac that you're easy pickings again!"

" _Easy pickings?_ " repeated d'Artagnan, irritated by the petit's description of him.

"If the shoe fits!" Sticking his tongue out at the young Gascon, Emile felt much better for his venting.

The childish urge to reciprocate was so strong in d'Artagnan but he talked himself out of the act. A future Musketeer wouldn't consider doing such a thing. If he kept telling himself that, d'Artagnan may come to believe it.

Having observed this exchange, Flea didn't know whether to be amused or alarmed. Deciding she was both, all she could do was shake her head in bemusement. "D'Artagnan, ya said you're a recruit." At his affirmative nod, she hummed softly to herself. "Do ya happen by any chance ta know a Musketeer that goes by the name of Porthos?"

Brightening up considerably at the mention of the large soldier, d'Artagnan enthusiastically bobbed his head up and down. "Porthos is one of my friends and also my teacher along with Athos and Aramis." Eyeing her closely, a question formed upon his lips. "How do you know of him?"

"We grew up together 'ere and we've been friends for a very long time." Flea clasped her hands in front of her. "Though Porthos doesn't stop by nearly as much as I'd like ta see 'im."

Reading in-between the lines, d'Artagnan felt the undercurrents of a love affair between Flea and his friend. Being gentlemanly enough not to question her further about it, he maintained his silence.

Tapping her chin, Flea tilted her head to the side studying the Gascon boy. "Pardon me for askin' ya this but are ya of the nobility? Is that why that cut-purse Deville's after ya?" She knew that a good portion of Musketeers were made up of nobles that could easily by their commission, instead of having served in a campaign or another part of the military.

Blushing, ducking his head, feeling embarrassed all over again for being easy prey for Deville and his men, d'Artagnan's eyes finally met hers once more. Figuring that if she was Porthos' friend, it was somehow all right to let her know his secret. Still, he had yet to be properly introduced to her. "Mademoiselle..."

"Flea," she responded.

"Mademoiselle Flea," he began again. Clearing his throat, d'Artagnan tucked his hands underneath his armpits. "Mes parrains live in Paris. Somehow Deville found out about them."

"Your famille is a powerful one then and quite rich?" Posing her question to him, Flea noted d'Artagnan becoming more uncomfortable than he was before.

"One makes a modest living while the other," he shrugged casually. D'Artagnan's eyes then slid away from hers, as he didn't exactly tell her the full truth. "The other holds a position of great power and wealth."

Understanding dawned that the young man didn't want to reveal his parrain's names. Flea had to wonder who d'Artagnan's famille was. If it attracted the likes of Deville and his cut-purses, the lad's relatives were probably well known within the city.

"Anyway, Emile saved my hide and got me out of Deville's clutches and brought me here." Swallowing hard, d'Artagnan took a deep breath. "Even though the petit thinks I'm safer in the Court I'll understand if you don't want me to remain here."

"If it weren't for that tricky situation Emile found himself in I'm not sure I'd want ya 'ere myself." Bewildered at the unfamiliar feelings of kindness toward a relative stranger, Flea shook them off. Sparing a glance at the child, she focused back upon the Gascon. "Most people would spit at our feet. Not many would have come ta the aid of one of us in trouble. Your aid ta the petit was enough ta earn your stayin' 'ere amongst us." 

"It won't be for long." Staring hard upon the ground d'Artagnan's shoulders lifted and dropped as he sighed. "At least I hope not."

"I will send a runner ta the Garrison to seek out Porthos and let 'im know where ya are," she offered.

"Merci." Imagining Porthos' distress when discovering where he was, not to mention Athos', d'Artagnan glanced down at the petit. Regardless of this being payment in kind for helping Emile, he still felt guilty over it. D'Artagnan hadn't expected such bravery from a mere child. Upon that note, perhaps one day when Emile was older the lad would make his way to the Garrison, where twould be d'Artagnan becoming the boy's mentor. He could only hope that he'd be in a position one day to lend Emile a helping hand again.

++++

With his gang members heading for the Bastille, Deville had to rely solely upon his own wits. Money crossed many palms as he discovered that one of the children from the Court was seen with a young Gascon lad, appearing to be in great haste.

There wasn't enough time for them to have gotten as far as the Garrison yet. Questioning others, working their stalls at the marketplace, Deville found himself once more pressing coins into greedy hands. But it proved a wise move because he learned what he needed to know.

++++

_Cour des Miracles_

The inseparables couldn't get here fast enough for d'Artagnan, as far as he was concerned. Waiting impatiently, he noted that his petit rescuer hadn't left his side once. Holding his hand out to shake Emile's, he grinned. "I can't express my thanks enough for getting me out of that place." About to say more d'Artagnan became startled when the sounds of gunfire brought him up short. Pushing the child out of harm's way d'Artagnan noted Lambert and Phelipe racing toward them. Or rather in Lambert's case the man was limping as fast as he could go. Blood oozed from a wound to the older man's leg, while Phelipe appeared to have an injury to the head because blood was dripping into the other man's eyes from his scalp.

" _LAD, GET OUT OF HERE!_ " yelled Phelipe, waving his hands madly. " _DEVILLE'S FOUND YOU!_ "

"He caused your injuries?" When the two men jerkily nodded their heads, d'Artagnan immediately felt responsible. "Does anyone have a sword or pistol I could use?"

"Here you can have mine." Shoving his pistol into the Gascon's hand, Lambert winced from the movement. "Sorry it ain't a sword. Most of us use poignards and pistols in our work."

"Just be careful cause Deville fights real dirty," added Phelipe, concern etched upon his face. He felt that the youngster shouldn't face that diable alone. "On second thought I think you're better off to lose yourself in the docks back here."

"I can't keep running away from him forever." _Face your enemies head on_ d'Artagnan's papa always drummed into him, as did his parrains.

"Deville must 'ave paid good coin ta find ya so quickly," muttered Flea. She didn't need the Red Guards to come pushing their way into the Court, because of this. "I'm sorry, D'Artagnan, you'll 'ave ta take this fight where my people won't be hurt." She hated to say it but needs must.

Flea's unspoken plea was very clear to d'Artagnan and he was in full agreement with her. He wouldn't want innocent lives caught in the crossfire either. "Is there another way out of the Court aside from the docks?"

"Oui," piped up Emile. "Come." He didn't give the Gascon time for any further questions. Grabbing d'Artagnan's arm he began pulling him in another direction that would lead to the marketplace.

Before d'Artagnan left the others, he glanced at Flea's pensive face. "Make sure Deville understands that I've left. I don't want him to injure anyone else with him believing I'm still hiding here." A simple nod of the woman's head was enough for him. Following Emile now, he lost himself in the winding corridors of the Court.

++++

Upon exiting the Court, and making sure Emile didn't take it into his head to follow him out, d'Artagnan tread carefully. He wasn't a familiar face as yet to many in the city so he tried to act inconspicuous, blending in with the hordes of people bartering for goods at the stalls.

Without a horse, he was somewhat hindered in trying to find his way back to the Garrison. Also without any coin upon his person, d'Artagnan couldn't pay anyone to get him there. He doubted the people here would trust his word that they'd be compensated for their trouble after arriving at the Garrison, so d'Artagnan didn't bother wasting his breath. Giving it some more thought, perhaps he should have given it a go by using his Gascon charm. His maman always used to tell him that he could charm the birds from the trees. Though d'Artagnan always put that down to the bread crumbs in his hands. Twas too late to try anything anyway, as his heart stuttered upon hearing his name angrily shouted out by a voice he had hoped never to hear again.

_"D'ARTAGNAN!"_

The cocking of a pistol had d'Artagnan swirling around to face his enemy. Instantly raising his own weapon, he didn't hesitate to fire off a shot. Aiming for Deville's left shoulder, d'Artagnan grimly smiled when the ball hit its target. Unfortunately, the other man fired back at him at the same moment not giving d'Artagnan a chance to jump out of the way.

Staggering back from the impact, Deville snarled his fury. He wasn't about to let a snot-nosed boy from Gascony best him. Taking a shot of his own, pleasure filled him when the lad collapsed upon the ground clutching his right leg. After all Deville couldn't very well ransom off a corpse. However before he had time to gloat, a deafening roar of rage filled the air. Swiftly turning around he froze in place upon noting three Musketeers charging down the street upon their horses. Injured as he was, Deville didn't believe he'd be up to a fight with three soldiers. Not wanting to lose his prize, and of course evade the soldiers, he rushed toward d'Artagnan. But as bad luck would have it he didn't get that far.

A witness to his protégé's injury had Athos nearly foaming at the mouth with fury. Barely had he halted his mount when Athos slid off Roger's back to attack Deville. " _Aramis, see to d'Artagnan!_ "

Porthos too went straight over to the whelp, knowing that Athos could take care of himself. His brother's reputation with a blade was well known and usually made men tremble in fear. None of them wanted to find themselves at the end of Athos' sword. "Aramis, 'ow's the kid?"

"The _kid_ can hear you just fine," bit out d'Artagnan through gritted teeth. " _Aramis!_ " Hissing upon the pain his friend's probing fingers elicited, he automatically kicked out at the older man with his good leg.

"Sorry. Sorry." Leaning back upon his knees, Aramis glanced up into the dark face peering down at him full of worry. "Tis a clean through and through. Doesn't appear the ball hit any arteries."

"Yeah but the whelp's still bleedin'." Going over to Belle, Porthos reached into one of the satchel bags to get Aramis more clean cloths to use.

Teeth still tightly clenched together against the pain d'Artagnan finally let go with a string of colorful curses that turned the air blue. 

Eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, Aramis was incredulous upon the foul oaths the boy was uttering. Immediately he glanced at Porthos. The latter shrank back under his intense stare. "What have you been teaching the lad?" Waving a hand in the air, Aramis could only stare dumbfounded at his brother. "Aside from hand-to-hand and cheating at cards."

"Nothin', Mis... honest."

"Best not to repeat those words around Athos, pup." Shaking a warning finger at the youngster, Aramis' suppressed laughter was quite evident. It paid to always find humor in any given situation, even if his friends never agreed with him.

Ignoring the warning, and despite being hurt, d'Artagnan had the presence of mind to be concerned upon the fight going on between his mentor and Deville. "Porthos, why aren't you over there helping Athos?"

"Why bother," snorted Porthos. "'E doesn't need it, kid." Winking at the pup, he grinned. "Trust me on that."

Taking the larger Musketeer at his word, d'Artagnan's eyes fluttered shut. Try as he might, he couldn't keep them opened. Trying not to swoon like a maiden, he felt it was a losing battle. "Ara... Aramis..." His voice barely a whisper now, d'Artagnan tried to speak. "I'm going to... to...pass out... now."

"Is there ever a good time to do so?" quipped Aramis earning a cuff to the back of his head from Porthos' heavy hand. When the Gascon heavily fell into Aramis' side, he glanced over his shoulder at the duel still going on. " _Athos! I need to get the boy to the infirmary and stitch up his wound!_ " Blowing a piece of hair out of his eyes, Aramis stabbed his older friend with a look that clearly said _end your fight quickly_.

Noting his unconscious protégé, slumped in the marksman's arms, only fueled Athos' anger all the more. Attacking Deville viciously, he was relentless in bringing the cut-purse to his knees. Blow after blow weakened his opponent who already sported a shoulder wound. Athos had to smile at that. D'Artagnan managed to get some of his own back then, even though the pup got injured himself in the process. With a few more well placed cuts to Deville's limbs, Athos was satisfied when the canaille keeled over. Whether from exhaustion or the man's numerous injuries, he cared not.

Throwing the body across Roger's back, Athos secured his prisoner. Having found out that d'Artagnan was not in any immediate danger of losing his young life, he and his brothers took off for the Garrison. Although Athos would have been happier dumping Deville's body into the Seine instead. However, he did not believe he would be able to convince Treville that it was a wise course of action to follow. Urging Roger to go at a faster clip, Athos fought against his inclination to drown Deville.

++++

Riding abreast of Aramis, Porthos heard his friend beginning to pray.

Softly, over the lad's head, Aramis began saying, "Je vous salue, Marie, chère..." Upon Porthos interrupting him, he glared at the other man.

"Thought ya told me the kid was gonna be okay. So what's with the prayers?"

"Tis because we have to face Captain Treville soon and have to explain about the lad being hurt... _again_ I might add." Grimacing upon just that thought Aramis noted his friend blanche. "Are you saying that it didn't occur to you, mon frere?"

" _Sang de Dieu!_ " As if that wasn't bad enough they would still have to face Cardinal Richelieu as well. "Maybe I should resign my commission now while I still 'ave a 'ead."

Pondering Porthos' words, Aramis found humor in them. "Ah, mon ami, to thrive in life you need three bones... a wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone."

"Ain't nothin' _funny_ about any of this," grunted Porthos. " _Merde!_ "

"Remember," grinning, amusement danced in Aramis' dark eyes, "be sure to taste your words before you spit them out." A chuff of laughter escaped him. "You've been teaching our youngest enough bad vocabulary."

"Whelp's out of it so 'e ain't gonna get an earful." Tempted to really let loose Porthos restrained himself, just in case the kid actually could hear him.

Moving Roger forward, Athos' eyes rested upon the lad. "Has he lost much blood?"

"D'Artagnan will live to learn from all of this I dare say." Clucking his tongue, Aramis kept a firm grip upon the Gascon's waist. The boy's head lolled to the side, coming to rest against his shoulder. "I think he simply passed out more from the shock of his wound than anything else."

"Until he wakes up explanations upon what occurred during his escape would have to wait." They did not find d'Artagnan in the Court, liked they had first surmised. Still, their young one was near enough to it which left Athos wondering about Emile and the part the child played in it all.

++++

_Notes:_

_Cour des Miracles_ \- Court of Miracles  
_Batard_ \- bastard  
_Cut-purse_ \- cut-throat  
_Mes parrains_ \- my godfathers  
_Famille_ \- family  
_Je vous salue, Marie, chère_ \- hail Mary  
_Sang de Dieu_ \- God's blood

 _Poignards_ \- daggers

 _Diable_ \- devil

 _Quote: "To thrive in life you need three bones... a wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Remember, be sure to taste your words before you spit them out."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, mid afternoon now - Garrison Infirmary_

Sitting beside his filleul's bed, with his head hanging down and hands clasped between his knees, Treville began to think this would be the norm from now on in regards to d'Artagnan. Listening to Aramis' quiet humming, as the man stitched up the boy, it flowed over him calming his rattled nerves. Apparently it hadn't the same effect for others, such as Athos, as his lieutenant was wearing out the floor pacing.

Porthos, on the other hand, at least had the decency to not follow Athos' example. Instead Treville's largest Musketeer relaxed in another chair spending his time whittling away. Something of which Treville hadn't the patience for. Every once in awhile he caught a sly grin crossing the man's swarthy features. Porthos appeared to be enjoying all the turmoil. Then again, the inseparables usually were the ones who created _turmoil_ to begin with. So it was something they were well accustomed to. When it finally seemed that Aramis was finished tending to d'Artagnan's injury, Treville drew his chair as close as he could to the lad's side.

"All done." Getting up Aramis gathered his supplies together to put them back into the medicine cabinet. "I'm glad the lad wasn't awake as it made my job that much easier." Catching the captain tenderly running fingers through their pup's long hair gave Aramis pause. It was an unusual, and vulnerable, moment to have witnessed. It just proved that Captain Treville was just as human as the rest of them. Something of which his brothers-in-arms constantly argued over whenever the captain doled out punishments.

As if he had been waiting for the marksman to vacate the chair Athos took command of it before his brother came back. His fingers itched to do the same thing Treville's were but he had to hold himself back. After all, the pup was famille to their captain. Athos, to his disgust, found his fingers twitching finding it hard to keep them still. To give himself something to do, he settled for resting a hand upon the young Gascon's arm.

It was amusing to Porthos and Aramis, as they observed the two older men.

"Wanna bet who d'Art calls out for first when the kid wakes up?" Smirking, Porthos tilted his head toward his brother giving Aramis a knowing look.

"Alas, my pockets are empty, mon ami, or I'd take you up on that." Chuckling softly over the scowl covering his friend's face Aramis became distracted upon two people that just entered the room.

" _Mon Dieu!_ We heard that d'Artagnan's been hurt again!" cried Constance, her face losing all color as she clung to her husband's arm.

"If d'Artagnan keeps this up," said a distressed Jacques, "that boy won't live long enough to become a Musketeer!"

Filling the overwrought couple in upon what had occurred, Athos retrieved several more chairs for them. "We still have not heard yet from the lad over what exactly took place once he escaped."

"Though we know he had help from a child that lives in the Court," added Aramis. "Seems our youngest has befriended the petit."

"How do you even have that much information if d'Artagnan has woken yet?" Staring hard at Aramis, Jacques noted the other man's sheepish expression.

"A few mutual acquaintances of mine told us that Emile was involved and how the petit garcon got our youngest out of Deville's place." Clearly, Aramis didn't want to divulge to the couple about Francesca and Chloé. Absently rubbing one side of his face, he cringed inwardly remembering the last time Constance slapped him. Aramis really wasn't up to enjoying it this time.

"By the time we went into action Emile 'ad already 'elped d'Art escape." Standing at the end of the whelp's bed, Porthos gently tugged the kid's left foot.

"Athos later informed me that when they finally came upon d'Artagnan and Deville that the canaille had already been shot in the shoulder by the lad." His eyes never left the unconscious form of his filleul but Treville continued. "D'Artagnan wounded Deville first before the batard shot the boy in the leg. That's when Athos stepped in to skillfully take the voleur down."

"All of this because," Constance whispered her next words, "you and the cardinal are his parrains." Shaking her head at the captain, she bit her lip until it nearly bled. A bad habit of hers since childhood and one which she still hadn't outgrown. "Someone from the regiment has a big mouth that this Deville person found out about d'Artagnan's famille being in Paris."

" _Hey!_ " barked Porthos, feeling just that wee bit offended by her accusation. "It weren't any of us!"

"Could have even been Red Guards," casually suggested Aramis, amused at Porthos' reaction.

"How can you prevent this from happening again?" Throwing her hands up in the air in disgust, Constance' gaze encompassed all of the soldiers. Then composing herself, she began quietly conversing with Captain Treville and Athos over d'Artagnan's condition. Which gave Porthos an opportunity to draw closer to Jacques. "She's kinda beside 'erself don't ya think?"

Blowing out a long breath, Jacques suppressed a shudder. "Porthos, telling a woman to calm down works as well as trying to baptize a cat." When the large Musketeer's dark eyes grew round with surprise, Jacques lifted a finger waggling at him. "Tis just not the done thing to do."

Twas at this juncture that the infirmary doors were thrown open wide to admit five Red Guards. Following closely behind the soldiers came a man, with a billowing red cape, whose mere presence commanded the room.

" _Ah, merde!_ " muttered Porthos. "We're really in for it now."

"Told you so." Throwing an irritated look toward his friend, Aramis bowed gracefully before His Eminence as did everyone else in the room.

"A tad crowded in here don't you think?" Richelieu's sharp gaze touched upon each individual around his filleul's bed. But the person that mattered most laid unconscious upon it. With a quirk of a brow, Richelieu focused his attention elsewhere. "Is this to become a habit, Captain?"

"I don't know...you tell me?" snapped Treville, losing his patience along with his temper. Now that Aramis had brought it up, he couldn't shake a bad feeling that came over him. It was entirely possible that Armand's personal guard had somehow become privvy to d'Artagnan's relationship to the both of them. Then again, it could just as well be Treville's own soldiers too. Loose tongues could sink ships and in this case cause a kidnapping. Twas maddening.

The more Treville gave thought to it, twas possible it had been Musketeers responsible. He knew there had been much speculation going on amongst his own men as to Treville's personal interest in the lad. If that were the case then the guilty finger should be pointing at himself. He tried, he honestly had, to be impartial but it turned out to be harder than he thought.

"Pointing fingers won't solve a thing." Rolling her eyes, Constance muttered to herself about how men couldn't see what was right in front of their noses at times.

When a voice quietly spoke up, taking them all by surprise, the room became suddenly silent. 

"Whose minding the Garrison and Palais-Cardinal if you're both here?" His eyes went back and forth between his parrains. Brows furrowed together, d'Artagnan bit back a hiss of pain when he accidentally jostled his right leg.

Instantly, Aramis went to retrieve a pain draught he had prepared earlier for the pup. Helping d'Artagnan to sit up he waited for the boy to drink it all down. The scowl his concoction produced from the young Gascon brought an answering smile to Aramis' face.

"Mis, the kid just woke up and now that stuff's gonna put 'im right back ta sleep." Frustration filled Porthos as he, like the rest of them, wanted to hear more about the kid getting away from Deville.

"Non, mon frere, this time I lessened the dosage. I put in just enough to take the edge off his pain but still keep d'Artagnan awake." Leaning toward his friend, he whispered, "Looks like you would have lost your bet, Porthos." A disgruntled reply was all that he got from the larger man.

"As to your answer, d'Artagnan, the Garrison has been known to run well enough without my presence." Watching his filleul roll his eyes at him made Treville feel like things were returning to normal.

"Usually that's when Athos is left in charge." Puzzled, d'Artagnan's eyes flitted toward his mentor. "And he's here."

"Ah but, d'Artagnan, there are others still capable of not letting the Garrison fall to ruin when none of us are available," put in Athos with relieved smile tugging at his lips.

Taking a turn to look at his other parrain, d'Artagnan frowned. "What's _your_ excuse?" Firing his question off, apparently he took the older man completely off guard judging by the stunned expression upon Oncle Armand.

"To pray over you of course," was Richelieu's dry retort.

"I have Aramis for that," countered d'Artagnan, with some amusement. Even daring to send Aramis a cocky grin.

Clearing his throat, Jacques tried to intervene. "Now that you are once more with us," he and Constance both got up and walked over to d'Artagnan's bedside, "we simply wanted to assure ourselves that you were going to be all right."

Knowing how the older couple felt about him, d'Artagnan fought down the growing lump in his throat. They had quickly become famille to him as well. "Neither of you should take up your time worrying over me. You know I always bounce back from these things." Hearing Athos' quiet _pfft_... Porthos' not so quiet snort... and Aramis' ever delightful clap of hands, made d'Artagnan roll his eyes again.

"Before we get off course _again_ ," stated Athos rather dryly, as his gaze encompassed everyone, "we would like to hear your account of events after your escape."

"Oui, d'Artagnan, as would I."

Shocked silence filled the infirmary once more, upon the latest arrival.

A contingent of royal guards at once filled the room to near overflowing. They took up a protective stance, as their eyes swept the room for possible threats. Upon noting none, they backed away to make room for Their Majestys to move forward.

"D'Artagnan, considering you've fast become my best friend I have to wonder why you had another adventure without me," drawled King Louis with mirth dancing in his gaze.

Poking her husband's side, Queen Anne gazed fondly at the wounded boy and chuckled softly at the lad's bemused expression. "You haven't any idea what I've had to listen to once word reached us of your kidnapping." Her smile lit up the room. "One would think that Louis wanted to have been taken along with you as well."

Perching upon the edge of d'Artagnan's bed, King Louis locked eyes with the Gascon boy. "I want to hear every detail." Holding up a hand, he tutted. "Don't leave a thing out. This will give me something to tell those stuffy councilmen of mine at our next meeting." Upon listening to the cardinal's low moan of anguish, King Louis laughed outright. "Do not concern yourself, Cardinal. You won't have to attend."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Richelieu slowly shook his head wondering how this had become his life of late. "D'Artagnan, since you're well enough to give me attitude I agree with Athos about that explanation."

Gingerly sitting back against the headboard, with help from Athos, d'Artagnan made a show of studying his clasped hands. Then he went into detail about how Email masterminded his escape with the help of two women from a local taverne. When he had finished, d'Artagnan felt worn out and he hadn't even lifted a foot out of bed. Though gazing at all the disturbed faces surrounding him, he doubted any of them would have let him give it a try.

"This petit Emile deserves a reward." Turning toward the cardinal, face pensive, King Louis tilted his head to one side. "Do you not think so, Your Eminence?"

"Indeed, Sire, I do."

"Ah, I'm sure Emile would appreciate it but the child was already returning a favor to me for helping him out of a troubling situation earlier." Catching Porthos' eye, d'Artagnan shook his head not wanting the man to spill about how d'Artagnan gave the petit some coin.

"Do we need to know the whys and therefores?" questioned Treville. One of these days his filleul was going to give him a heart attack, he just had that feeling.

"Ummmmm, remember when you asked me about those bruises I had accumulated?" Trying not to look directly at his parrain, d'Artagnan became the picture of innocence.

"Oh _that_ incident." Rubbing his chin, Treville's lips pursed.

"Would one of you like to explain what you're going on about?" insisted Richelieu, a bit peeved to be left out.

"The whelp intervened with a robbery involvin' Emile and then later gave the child a bit of money." Understanding the whelp didn't want the captain or cardinal to know about the money, Porthos knew it had to be said. Remembering being with the kid when d'Artagnan had gifted the petit with coin, Porthos thought over their youngest' big heart.

"Bien," shrugging a shoulder, Richelieu stared at d'Artagnan squirming underneath the bedsheets, "I do admire your principles but eventually they're going to land you in hot water."

"Still," interrupted King Louis, wearing a very pleased expression, "I'd like to personally gift Emile with whatever the child would like for his timely rescue of you, d'Artagnan."

"I never met them but two women that helped Emile should also be given thanks as well." Not sure how that suggestion would go over once Louis discovered the ladies in question were prostitutes from the worst section of the city, d'Artagnan bit the inside of his cheek.

"Why do you look like that?" asked Queen Anne, observing the discomfort that came over the boy as soon as he spoke about the women.

Noting d'Artagnan's face suffuse with color, Athos stepped in. "Because the ladies in question work at one of the tavernes in Rue Saint-Denis."

Sequestered most of the time within the safe haven of the palace, even Queen Anne had heard about that particular part of Paris. But it didn't matter to her in the slightest. "I agree that they too should be rewarded."

D'Artagnan wasn't surprised of the kindness Louis and Anne wanted to bestow upon Emile but to extend it to those prostitutes truly amazed him.

Before his protégé opened his mouth, Athos dipped his head toward Their Majestys. "I will personally retrieve Emile and then pay a visit to the taverne to extend your generous offer to the women that were involved in playing a major part of d'Artagnan's rescue."

Rubbing his hands together, King Louis winked at the lad. "As soon as you're well, d'Artagnan, you will pay Anne and I a visit. We're going to discuss your penchant for finding trouble without including me in it."

" _Oh mon Dieu!_ " cried Richelieu in tandem with Treville. Both men exchanged looks of horror with one another.

Upon the king's unexpected remark Richelieu simply crossed himself. The captain however, who had been standing at the time, collapsed upon the nearest chair available. Treville gave all the appearances of a man at the end of his rope.

Their reactions did not go unnoted by King Louis. Rather he was quite amused over it.

"Sire, you can't be serious?" Silently, Richelieu began reciting prayers in hopes that someone up their protected young idiotic kings who think their indestructible.

Lips curling upward into a wide smile, King Louis turned slightly to gaze into His Eminence's worried eyes. "You'll be the first to know when I'm _serious_ , Cardinal."

"I suppose I'll be the second?" questioned Treville, still feeling that heart attack about to happen at any moment.

"Mmmmmm," pleasantly hummed King Louis. When it hit him that everyone had stopped talking he placed a hand upon d'Artagnan's one shoulder and gave it a gentle pat or two. "I shall look forward to our meeting after you've recovered." At the boy's nod, King Louis took his queen's arm and walked toward the exit.

"I shall see you later also, d'Artagnan," said Richelieu as, he too, took his leave.

Staring at his parrain, d'Artagnan wasn't sure if he should be worried or not. When he caught the odd looks he was receiving from everyone else d'Artagnan tried to smile but it turned into another wince of pain as his wound acted up. Hurt or not, he hated being in the infirmary and wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. "When can I leave?" Gazing at Aramis, he crossed his fingers that were hidden under the sheets.

"Do not be in such a hurry, pup. That injury has to be given time to heal before we let you loose upon the world again." Chuckling, Aramis ruffled the boy's hair. "Besides we don't always get what we want." When d'Artagnan started to turn his pouting face away from him, Aramis tapped the Gascon's nose as if the lad were as young as Emile. "After all you're eighteen and nearly an adult in most eyes. You're going to have to act like one and not a pouting petit."

"All in all, kid," Porthos again tugged upon the boy's foot, "bein' an adult is mostly just goin' ta bed when you don't want ta and also wakin' up when ya don't want ta."

"Tis all about perspective, child." Gaining his feet, Athos stared down at the top of d'Artagnan's head. "Someday you will be the best of us." Now if only Athos could figure out how to keep his protégé alive long enough to obtain that illustrious position, all would be well.

"By the way, Porthos, it appears we've gotten a reprieve from that dressing down you feared." The relieved look Aramis' quietly spoken words received soon turned quickly into one of worry. Following Porthos' gaze, he noted what put that look in his friend's eyes. Captain Treville was glaring at them. "Perhaps I spoke too soon." Porthos didn't say a word to that. Hoping to lighten the captain's mood and d'Artagnan's, Aramis twirled his mustache as he added, "Lad, as long as you have us you have nothing to fear." Confident in his words Aramis bumped shoulders with Porthos for his friend to add his piece too.

"It's like what Mis just said, d'Art," agreed Porthos. He wasn't one for fancy speeches and usually left that up to Aramis.

Kissing his fingertips, Aramis tried to make up for Porthos' woeful lack of eloquence. "A smile is a sign of joy... a kiss is a sign of love... a laugh is a sign of happiness.. and having friends like us is a sign of good taste." Finally, Aramis had teased a slowly growing smile from their youngest.

Not amused in the slightest over what Aramis just said, Constance rolled her eyes as she looked at Jacques. Because Their Majestys had paid a visit it had delayed their departure. So before Constance left she bent to give d'Artagnan a swift kiss upon his forehead. She waited while Jacques whispered something in the boy's ear. Even though it sounded to her as if their young border didn't get into trouble because of the inseparables. She knew their history and figured sooner or later they'd land d'Artagnan in a mess they had created. Still upset, taking her husband by the hand, Constance lead him to the door but not without having the last word. Over her shoulder she had the audacity to say, "Sometimes with friends like you three who needs enemies?"

++++

 _Notes:_  
_Filleul's_ \- godson's  
_Famille_ \- family  
_Canaille_ \- scoundrel  
_Batard_ \- bastard  
_Voleur_ \- thief

 _Quote: "Telling a woman to calm down works as well as trying to baptize a cat."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Being an adult is mostly just going to bed when you don't want to and also waking up when you don't want to."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "A smile is a sign of joy... a kiss is a sign of love... a laugh is a sign of happiness... and having a friend like me is a sign of freakin' good taste."_ \- from Aunty Acid (I changed it a bit to suit my purposes but I liked this.)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Approximately three weeks after d'Artagnan's kidnapping_

_Slightly after the noon hour - the Garrison_

Shaking the ache out from his right leg, this day was the best d'Artagnan had felt. Having been allowed to start sparring once again with Athos, he began to feel his life was finally getting back on track.

Sitting all alone at the bench, where usually all the inseparables sat, d'Artagnan blinked his eyes against the hot rays of the sun. When a massive shadow stepped in front of him, blocking out the light, he peered up at the giant figure.

"Ey, whelp, thought you'd be with the king." Sitting down beside the boy, Porthos leaned back against the bench.

"His Majesty was called into an unexpected meeting with some of his council." Copying Porthos' relaxed posture, d'Artagnan glanced sideways at his friend. Sounding bored he said, "Athos and I have finished and he's back to leading drills and who knows where Aramis is at?" A sly looked crossed his face but he knew his secret would be safe with his brother. "I coaxed LaBeau into sparring with me once Athos left." As Porthos remained silent at d'Artagnan's admission, a thought crossed his mind. One of which he had been curious over but never voiced out loud since his return. "When Emile had taken me to the Court to hide I met an unusual woman there. Said she knew you."

"Flea," gruffly replied Porthos. He got what the kid wanted to know. D'Artagnan knew some of his background already but not the part that included her. "Yeah. We were close once."

" _Once?_ " The question laid between them, making d'Artagnan wonder if the large, quiet man would explain. "Because I got the distinct impression that she's _s_ t _ill_ interested. Flea's mentioned its been awhile since you've stopped by and it sounded to me as if it wouldn't go amiss if you paid her a visit." Noting that Porthos appeared deep in thought, d'Artagnan thumped him on the back. "Go see her. I mean what's it going to cost you?"

Bumping the whelp's shoulder so hard that Porthos' nearly dislodged the boy from his perch, he neatly caught the young Gascon by the arm. "Last time I 'eard... your name was d'Art not _cupid_."

Humming softly, a slow smile spread across his face. "Call it a side position." Chuckling at the dark scowl aimed at him, d'Artagnan shifted his weight trying to stretch out his right leg.

Noting the movement, Porthos frowned. "Still 'urtin' is it?"

"Much better now. I've just been overdoing it I guess."

"Don't let Athos get wind of that lest 'e tells Constance and Jacques ta lock ya up in your room." Standing up Porthos leaned down to ruffle the kid's hair. Ignoring the huff of indignation his action produced, he winked at walked away.

After Porthos' departure, d'Artagnan's thoughts drifted back to when he had been stuck in the infirmary. He'd been told that Athos had found Emile, along with Francesca and Chloé, and brought them all back to see Louis. D'Artagnan had been amused to discover that the women had not only been gifted a generous amount of coin but that Anne had supplied the ladies with some lovely gowns as well.

As for the petit, d'Artagnan also learned that Louis was so taken with the imp that he and Ann nearly didn't let the child go. But Emile didn't take to all the luxurious surroundings at all from what d'Artagnan had understood. That in itself endeared the boy all the more to the young royals. Still, the petit not only had been given twice the amount of coin that the women had taken, but Louis had extended an open invitation for Emile to join the Musketeer regiment when he came of age. Dearly wishing that he could have been there to witness the boy's reaction, d'Artagnan then came back to the present.

Feeling a twinge still left in his leg, d'Artagnan sighed out loud. Not wanting to feel the edge of Athos' tongue if his mentor were to find out twas troubling him again, he headed for his apartment.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

Waving his lieutenant inside the room, Treville passed a hand over his brow. Without looking Athos' way he grumbled out his worries. "Ever have one of those days where you're better off sitting in a corner and banging your head off the wall?"

"Every time I have found myself dealing with Aramis and Porthos," giving a slight pause, he smiled, "and now I have included d'Artagnan into that equation." Noting a twitch of the captain's lips, Athos absently scratched at his beard. "A bad morning then?"

"It never ends does it, Athos?" Pouring himself a whiskey Treville offered a glass to the younger man.

"Not in my experience, non." Shaking his head, Athos picked up the drink.

"If I have to deal with one more empty headed imbecile I'll... I'll tear out what's left of my hair." Downing the amber colored liquid in one gulp, Treville smacked his lips in satisfaction while it burned downed his throat. Holding his empty glass in the air, he peered over it at Athos. "Tis simply stress," he shrugged. "At least that's what I've been telling myself lately."

"Porthos would give you a few words of wisdom in that regard." Placing his glass down, Athos' blue eyes twinkled.

"This I have to hear." Folding his arms, Treville sat back in his chair.

Tapping his lip once or twice Athos cleared his throat. "Tis how to handle stress like a dog." When Treville's one brow shot up, Athos choked upon his laughter but continued on. "If you cannot eat it or play with it then pee upon it and walk away."

A boisterous shout burst forth from Treville, startling even himself. "That definitely sounds like advice Porthos would give." Shaking his head, abeit ruefully, he studied the pile of missives and documents scattered upon his desk. The paperwork never decreased, if anything it grew exponentially. "Ah, what's another day of outward smiles and inward screams eh, Athos?"

"I have had too many of those myself, Captain." Nodding his head briefly, Athos asked, "May I inquire if there is a name attached to this particular _imbecile_ that has given you grief?"

Picking up a sheaf of papers, only to throw them back down again, Treville glanced up to stare at Athos' set expression. "Monsieur Lebreton believes he knows better than myself, the cardinal and most of all King Louis." Tapping a finger, as his agitation grew, Treville muttered, "The man's a fool. Always has been. But I've found that arguing with fools puts you in the fool's position." Grinning, he stood up to walk around his desk. "Through the years I've learned to step over the bullshit... not in it."

"Indeed." While pondering over Treville's words, Athos realized that the captain had gone out to the balcony. More than likely overseeing the soldiers at practice.

Feeling Athos by his side, Treville gave his lieutenant a concerned look. "How's my filleul because I haven't seen that boy at all this morning? If I didn't know better I'd think he's deliberately being evasive."

"We finished sparring early this morn as I thought the pup was beginning to tire. Ended up that I had to cut our session short anyway because of other duties that needed my attention." Looking out into the courtyard, Athos missed the way Treville's face scrunched up in worry once more.

"Do you think he overdid it? It certainly wouldn't be the first time," scoffed Treville thinking back to the days when d'Artagnan had been quite younger and believed he was invincible.

"If he had it would not have been due to our sparring." Slapping his hand hard on top of the railing, Athos bit off a curse. "Unless the lad decided to coax someone else into taking him on without them knowing d'Artagnan's not to overdue things."

"That would be just like the boy," sighed Treville. "Age apparently hasn't changed the way that young man always has been."

"I shall go check on him to put both our minds at ease and will report back to you later."

Watching Athos stomp back down the stairs, Treville could only hope that the afternoon would turn out better than his morn had.

++++

_The Bonacieux's residence_

As d'Artagnan slipped unnoticed inside the house, familiar banging sounds from the kitchen reached his ears. Constance, apparently, was in one of her snits. Curious as to what had set her off this time he didn't have long to wait as Jacques approached.

Rubbing tiredly the ache behind his neck, Jacques abruptly stopped when he spied d'Artagnan leaning against the staircase. Knowing the unmistakable sounds of his wife's upset was something which the Gascon was getting used too, he spread his arms out wide. "If your wife is having a bad day," now his arms flew up into the air, " _surprise_ , so are you."

More clanging of pots and pans made d'Artagnan wince. "Yup, she's definitely upset." Before he could quiz Jacques further, Constance put in an appearance.

Her eyes slid back and forth between the two men. Swiping at an errant strand of hair, that had come loose from a ribbon on back of her head, Constance then planted hands upon her hips. One foot rapidly beat a tattoo upon the carpet, while she glared at them both. Oh she knew d'Artagnan had nothing to do with why she was angry but he had arrived at the wrong time. Guilty by association is what Constance was going with.

"Guys," she slowly took in a breath, "when a woman says _correct me if I'm wrong_... that is not a real invitation." Constance now stomped her foot, emphasizing her point. Staring at her husband, she ground out, "For _your_ own safety, Jacques, do not, under any circumstances, actually do it!" Whirling around Constance marched back into the kitchen.

Wide-eyed, d'Artagnan whistled through his teeth. "Wow! That was... wow!" was the only think he could think to say.

Understanding that a reasonable explanation was called for, Jacques placed a hand upon the lad's arm. The latter raised a questioning brow. "I brought home the material Constance needed for the queen's latest ball gown." With a brief glance at the floor, he met the lad's eyes again. "I thought she told me to buy a bolt of red material along with gold brocade."

"Okaaaaay." Stretching the word out, d'Artagnan nodded his head. With a slight wave of his hand, he indicated for the older man to continue.

"When I presented them to her she had a fit. Told me twas to have been a bolt of gold material with red brocade" Wearing the carpet thin, Jacques unconsciously paced back and forth. "I tried to explain to her twas not what she said. That's when Constance went on about my _correcting_ her."

"Sounds a bit familiar actually." D'Artagnan smiled at the memory that just came to mind. "Maman and papa sometimes got things in a muddle too."

"Did Madame d'Artagnan throw pots and pans about and threatened to throw them at your papa?" Taking a quick look over his shoulder, Jacques was relieved that his wife hadn't heard that.

"Now that you mention it, there was one time when papa brought home the wrong order she had placed the day before with the local butcher." Chuckling, d'Artagnan gave Jacques a sympathetic look. "I remember papa running out of the house with her chasing after him brandishing a broom."

"Women are the same anywhere it would seem," murmured Jacques. "I love Constance with all my heart but as the saying goes you really don't know someone until you live with them." Pursing his lips together he glanced again toward the kitchen, afraid any minute now that his wife would be coming at him with a broom too. With the noise having died down he prayed so had Constance's temper tantrum.

"It isn't like I didn't know what I was getting into by marrying her. I mean with all that glorious titian hair a temper was bound to go with it." Jacques noted that at his words a warm smile broke out over the young lad's face. "So if you fall for a woman with red locks be upon your mettle, lad."

Amusement dancing within his brown eyes, d'Artagnan gracefully dipped his head at the sage advice. "I shall." Grinning, his expression quickly changed upon the presence of their visitor whom Constance had just let in. Odd that neither he nor Jacques had heard a knock upon the door. More to the point, d'Artagnan hoped that Constance hadn't heard a lot of their conversation.

"At least you had the good sense to come home."

The voice was rough with relief but d'Artagnan instantly knew whom it belonged to. Hoping that the continued ache in his leg didn't give him away, he faced his mentor.

"Athos, what brings you here?" asked Jacques, his eyes going from the soldier to his wife. Not noting her armed with anything dangerous, he figured he was safe for the moment.

Picking upon the tension in the air, Athos wondered what he had stepped into. Glancing at his protégé even d'Artagnan appeared uneasy. "I promised Captain Treville that I would check that the pup had not overdone while practicing."

"D'Artagnan was rubbing his leg when he came in." Twas to late for Jacques to take the words back after noting frantic hands waving at him. "Upon the other hand it could have been nothing."

Hanging his head down, Athos silently counted to ten. When his eyes met the worried ones of his protégé, he slowly walked towards the boy. "How bad?" Waving a finger at him, Athos frowned. "Mind you I want the truth."

"A bit achy that's all, Athos." A gloved hand reached out to the back of d'Artagnan's neck to bring his forehead closer to his mentor's. Feeling the older man's clean breath against his skin, as their foreheads finally touched, he was filled with a wealth of emotion. "Perhaps you could rub the ache from it."

A deep sigh escaped Athos. Glancing over his shoulder, the concern the couple were showing the pup moved him. "The boy will be fine. That is if d'Artagnan listens this time to those with more experience than he."

"Athos," whined d'Artagnan.

"How old did you say you were, mmmmm?" Releasing the lad, Athos gently pushed the child up the stairs. "Constance if you have any liniment around I could use it to rub into his muscles."

"Coming right up." Mumbling to herself about husbands getting the wrong handle of things and young men that don't tell you when their in pain, Constance went to where she placed medicinal supplies.

"She sounds upset." Arching a brow, Athos looked at d'Artagnan. They had reached the top landing where the young Gascon's room was.

"A subject tis best avoided until her temper cools." Entering his room, d'Artagnan wondered if his mentor was going to give him a good scolding. Something of which he wasn't in the mood for. Then again, with him being the youngest recruit, twas to be expected. Ah, bien, he'll just have to grit his teeth and bear it.

++++

_Elsewhere... the Bastille_

Deville had bribed one of the guards. When he had been thrown into jail he was surprised, during their search of him, that the guards had missed the money hidden in his shirt pocket. Biding his time, Deville found out who was the weakest link amongst the guards here. Twas going to finally pay off.

The rattling of a key unlocking his cell door had Deville more than ready to get out of here. Following the guard, he managed to escape through a section of the jail that was rarely used. Slipping away, he plotted his next move against that diable of a Gascon.

++++

_Notes:_

_Diable_ \- devil

_Filleul_ \- godson

_Quote: "Ever have one of those days where you're better off sitting in a corner and banging your head off the wall?"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "How to handle stress like a dog. If you can't eat it or play with it then pee on it and walk away."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "Another day of outward smiles and inward screams."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "Arguing with fools puts you in the fool's position. Learn to step over the BS... not in it."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "If your wife is having a bad day, surprise, so are you."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "Guys, when a woman says correct me if I'm wrong... that is not a real invitation. For your own safety do not, under any circumstances, actually freakin' do it!"_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_The Bonacieux’s residence_

While rubbing the soothing liniment into the overtaxed muscles of his protégé’s leg, Athos hummed quietly to himself. He could not say that he enjoyed observing the youth’s pained face while he was trying to help the boy. With a roll of his eyes he finally asked the question that had been burning upon the tip of his tongue. “Whom did you spar with after our lesson today?” Holding up an imperious hand, Athos frowned down at the young Gascon. “Do not think to lie to me because I shall know better.” The child mumbled something to which he had not understood. “I believe you to have irritated your leg… not injured your tongue as well, d’Artagnan.”

Laying upon the bed, with his right leg immobilized under his mentor’s hands, d’Artagnan winced again. Not from the discomfort of Athos’ ministrations but from what he had yet to admit. “Twas not LaBeau’s fault.” Upon the older man’s raised brow, d’Artagnan explained. “I didn’t tell him that you and I had already sparred.”

“And you see what your omission caused?” Sighing, Athos finished the job and walked over to a basin filled with clean water. Washing his hands he then toweled them dry. “You are to stay off that leg for the remainder of the day.” Noting the youngster opened his mouth to protest, Athos glared at the boy. “Do not… I repeat… do not show yourself at the Garrison or you will deal with me.”

As d’Artagnan’s mouth clamped shut, Athos felt he had won this round. Twas a pleasant experience for once not to have the lad argue back. But Athos could tell that his protégé had tired himself out which was, more than likely, the true reason for the pup’s easy capitulation. Also There was the fact that the pup was not about to admit how much he _had_ aggravated the injury. “I shall inform both Constance and Jacques that you are to stay put.”

Turning to leave, Athos barely caught the mumbled out words that escaped form the boy’s mouth. Something to do with him not being the lad's papa. So over his shoulder he remarked, "I may not have had the honor to claim you as my own but I will and do worry over you as if you were." Quietly closing the door behind him, Athos smiled having heard d'Artagnan's softly spoken words of apology.

++++

_A short time later - Garrison courtyard_

"Do I need to go over there and read my filleul the riot act?" Observing some training exercises, Treville tried to keep his anger in check but wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"Non, d'Artagnan understood me," replied Athos. "As did Jacques and Constance before my departure."

"I don't know which of them is worse... d'Artagnan or Louis." Pausing to correct one of his new recruit's form, as Marcel barely missed getting skewered by Aramis' blade, Treville's lips pulled tight. "Louis is determined to take d'Artagnan with him on hunts and whatever else our young monarch could come up with. Just in the hopes of finding more trouble to get into." Mmmmm, Athos twould seem was keeping his opinion to himself since silence met Treville's ears. "I'm going to develop an ulcer over all this, I can feel it."

"Does His Majesty have another hunt scheduled soon or something else involving d'Artagnan?" Athos certainly hoped not. They all needed a break.

Walking off toward where some of his men were target shooting, Treville's stride didn't falter. "For once the cardinal beat Louis to the punch."

"How so?" Keeping pace with the captain, Athos became slightly alarmed at this piece of news.

"Cardinal Richelieu is to hold an outdoor fete for some visitors of his. Both Their Majestys will be present as well."

"D'Artagnan?"

"Oui, the lad too at the request of the cardinal." Stopping to watch several soldiers hitting their marks upon the target, Treville was pleased. "Tis to be hoped nothing untoward happens."

"From your mouth to God's ear, Sir." Grimacing as Leon missed his next shot, Athos excused himself to go over and offer some advice.

With things in good hands, Treville decided to head off to see how Porthos was dealing with the remaining recruits.

++++

"If'n ya 'ave a problem with me, Colbert," snarled Porthos to the man upon the ground who was glaring back up at him, "I suggest ya get over it right quick. You'll only make yourself miserable waitin' for me ta give a damn!"

Stepping over to the massive giant, Treville was curious as to what had brought about his Musketeer's ire. "Problem?"

"It isn't that I'm not a people person, Captin'," glowering down at Colbert, Porthos wasn't about to help the man gain his feet, "tis just I'm not a _stupid_ people person."

"Ah!" Smiling, Treville patted Porthos' shoulder in sympathy then walked away. Business as usual then.

If Captain Treville had known about Deville's escape, he wouldn't have been smiling for long.

++++

_A week later - Palais-Cardinal_

The grounds were covered with canopied tables. People milled about chatting with Their Majestys and, of course their host, Cardinal Richelieu.

The number of Red Guards and Musketeers was more than enough to cover this event, or so it appeared.

Close to where the young royals were stood the inseparables. One of whom was bemoaning his fate.

" _Sang de Dieu!_ " exclaimed Porthos. "Don't know which I hate most... parades or fetes. Especially the ones like this."

"What? You mean because there are too many people and beautiful women around?" Chuckling at his brother's dark look, Aramis bit his lip to keep from further agitating his friend. Though he was finding it difficult at best.

"If'n your eyes hadn't latched onto the ladies I'd be worried. You know that?" growled Porthos. "Tis the heat that bothers me the most, ya imbecile and ya know it."

"Gentlemen," placing himself directly in front of them, Athos' stern look spoke volumes, "do I need to remind the both of you to be quiet?" Their immediate silence is what he had wanted to begin with. Now if only Athos could locate d'Artagnan, his concern would lessen.

Cardinal Richelieu had demanded the boy's presence and was currently keeping the lad near his side as one of His Eminence's personal guards. Still, after all that had transpired, Athos would have felt easier with the young Gascon closer to him. There were so many guests that somehow he had lost sight of his protégé. He couldn't even see the cardinal from here. With Treville watching out for His Eminence, and the pup, Athos tried to concentrate upon other matters and shake himself free of worry.

"Athos, what's that idiot tryin' ta do over there?" Pointing toward a huge fountain, located in the center of the grounds, Porthos' brows drew together.

"That _idiot_ is the personal valet to Comte de la Chapelle aux Ursins." Upon the commotion going on over there, Athos gave a rueful shake of his head. Stopping one of the young pages running past him, he asked the boy what he knew. After learning what had transpired, Athos tried to keep irritation from showing. "Twould seem that the Comte's chapeau blew off the man's head to land in that fountain. He ordered his valet to retrieve it."

Feeling for the poor valet, Aramis was happy twas not him getting his clothes sopping wet. The only saving grace that he could see was that it was hot enough out here for the valet's uniform to dry quickly.

Evidently the young royals were either oblivious to the going ons, by the fountain, or else chose to ignore it as they appeared to enjoy easy banter with the cardinal's guests. Athos' sharp gaze never lost track of them. If anyone dared try to harm Their Majestys during this festivity they would soon find themselves knee deep in trouble.

Listening to Porthos' soft laughter, at the antics of the valet whom was shaking out his wet clothes, Athos' brow quirked up. Tilting his head to the side, he murmured, "Common sense is the most limited of all natural resources." Dryly put, he still found himself smiling. "There is a long pole lying near the fountain. That valet could have used it to snag the chapeau instead of making a spectacle of himself."

"We can't all be like you, mon ami," lightly teased Aramis. "So right and proper." Dark eyes twinkling, his amusement was contagious as Porthos began laughing again. However, the clearing of Athos' throat quickly put paid to any more levity.

++++

_Elsewhere..._

A way's off from the gathering, Deville hid amongst the trees. Using his spy glass, he searched for his prey. Spotting the boy standing behind the cardinal he pulled out his long range musket, the type Musketeers used in battle. If things went as Deville hoped, he would pay that Gascon brat back. He owed that kid for, not only injuring his shoulder, his stay in the Bastille. But the main reason was for ruining Deville's chances to become rich. The only thing he had going for him at the moment was it seemed that none of the guards at the jail had put out the call of his escape. Twas what gave him the time to get what was needed for this job and to be sure Deville would enjoy every minute of chaos he'd create this day.

++++

"Don't you think that this extravagant display of wealth would set tongues wagging?" A sly smile graced the features of Chancellor de Vaudemont.

The Chancellor's insolent tone began grating upon Richelieu's nerves. The man had been going on for some time about the fete. "What God knows about me is of more import than what others think about me." Leaving de Vaudemont speechless, Richelieu signaled d'Artagnan to follow him.

Wanting to speak briefly with his filleul, Armand stopped at one of the tables. "D'Artagnan, what is your opinion upon my fete?" Glancing at the lad, his gaze caught the bewilderment reflected in the boy's eyes. "Too difficult a question for you?"

"Honest answer, Oncle?" There wasn't anyone closes enough to hear him use the honorary title so d'Artagnan deemed it safe enough to do so.

"Oui... honesty at all costs," agreed Armand.

"Maman always says that as long as you have a roof over your head... clothes upon your back..." pointing to one of the many tables laden down with bounty, d'Artagnan pressed on, "food around your table... and those around whom you love... you have all you ever need."

Chewing upon his mustache, Armand reached out to gently take the youth's chin in his hand. "Francoise always had the wisest head of all of us." Dropping his hand he pushed the lad forward. "So twould appear all of this is a tad too much."

"Perhaps when this event's done any leftovers could be given to the staff and spread out amongst the poor as well." Innocently peeking out from behind his bangs, d'Artagnan slowly grinned.

"You also have Francoise's kind heart." Twas one of the many things Armand greatly worried over. "Let's make sure the cooks and rest of my staff are alerted to what we've just discussed." Before being waylayed by anyone, they both wound their way around the guests to find the head cook.

++++

Having suffered the indignity of yet another inebriated dignitary falling over his person, Athos realized that his cross look was making even Porthos and Aramis nervous. The intoxicated man he had been dealing with apparently was not done with him either. Curses flowed from the man's mouth all directed at him. Athos rolled his eyes and wished he could dump the dignitary in the fountain.

"Ah, mon frere, the world is a magical, wondrous place full of people waiting to be offended by something." Amusement faded, after Aramis was treated to his brother's cool look. Twas then that a tingling upon the back of his neck had him gazing off into the distance. He had a niggling suspicion that all was not as it should be.

"What is it, Aramis?" With everything they have shared in the past, Athos had learned to trust his friend's gut instincts.

"Mmmmm." Scratching at his beard, Aramis shrugged. "I hate it when my intuition is telling me something I don't want to listen to." Twisting his head around, catching his friend's staring at him oddly, Aramis’ hand hovered just above the pistol in his weapons belt. "Anyone else?"

"Yeah, there's somethin' in the wind all right and it ain't the Chancellor passing gas."

So the trio, ever vigilant, kept an even closer eye upon the proceedings.

++++

Over at a table where the chocolate fountain stood, Queen Anne and King Louis were discussing, with both the cardinal and captain, how well d'Artagnan was conducting himself today. Of course their conversation veered off into an entirely different direction after a time.

"The boy was deuce lucky that he wasn't killed by Deville's hand." Warming up to his subject, Treville was going to expound upon the youngster's more annoying qualities but was forestalled by a wave of the king's hand.

"Tis hard to detect good luck," posed King Louis, "it looks so much like something you earned." Having said this, rather tongue-in-cheek, he noted that both older men were sharing a secret smile. Now he wondered what _that_ was all about.

Knowing that d’Artagnan had been hard at it guarding him, Armand glanced at the boy. “Why don’t you fetch yourself something cool to drink.”

“Might as well take some over to the inseparables too,” added Jean-Armand. “I’m afraid Porthos might embarrass himself and swoon like a maiden from the heat.”

Chuckling, d’Artagnan dipped his head a both his parrains. “You do know that soldiers don’t _swoon_ … we simply pass out.” Having said that, he was more than happy to get something to quench his parched throat.

++++

Aramis’ instincts were spot on as he caught a glint of, what he thought was, metal coming from the tree-lined area. It could have been anything really but in his experience it usually meant an ambush of some sort. Gaining the attention of his brothers, Aramis pointed toward the trees.

Alert to possible trouble, Athos began walking over to where Treville was. If someone at the fete was in harm’s way, they’d have to move everyone inside. When a report of weapon’s fire sounded, his eyes went wild wondering whom to protect first. Noting the drinks his protégé had been holding fly out of the child's hands, as the boy spun around in shock, Athos realized whom the target truly was. “ _D’ARTAGNAN! HIT THE GROUND!_ ” With sounds of panic surrounding him, he could tell that the lad had not heard his shout of terror. From his position Athos noted that the pup had drawn out his own weapon prepared to guard Cardinal Richelieu. Knowing twas the young Gascon's life in the balance, he raced toward d'Artagnan. Bodily throwing himself over the boy twas then another shot was fired making Athos cry out.

++++

_Notes:_

_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Sang de Dieu_ \- God's blood  
_Parrains_ \- godfathers

 _Quote: "If you have a problem with me, I suggest you get over it. You'll only make yourself miserable waiting for me to give a damn!"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "It isn't that I'm not a people person, it's just I'm not a stupid people person."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Common sense is the most limited of all natural resources."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "What God knows about me is more important than what others think about me."_ \- from Scripture quotes from pinterest.com.

 _Quote: "As long as you have a roof over your head... clothes upon your back... food around your table... and those around who you love... you have all you ever need."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "The world is a magical, wondrous place full of people waiting to be offended by something."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: ""I hate it when my intuition is telling me something I don't want to listen to. Anyone else?"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "It's hard to detect good luck. It looks so much like something you earned."_ \- from Frank A. Clark. (10/10/1911 - 12/11/1991) He ministered to tens of thousands of people in an unusual way - via his popular one-panel newspaper cartoons. His instructive and insightful "The Country Parson" sermons were treasured by loyal fans.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same time... same place... same catastrophe..._

Wriggling out from under the heavy weight of his mentor, d'Artagnan managed to roll out from underneath the groaning soldier but refrained from gaining his feet. Chaos all around, momentarily forgotten, his main concerned was for his mentor. Leaving his friend lying upon his stomach d'Artagnan gingerly touched an area just above Athos' hip. When his hand came away slick with blood, his heart dropped.

Wondering if twas safe to even stand up without risking a ball between the eyes, d'Artagnan thought it worth it for the older man's sake. Tentatively he got to his feet in an attempt to locate Aramis. Remembering the marksman's outlandish purple-colored feather the man wore in his chapeau, d'Artagnan figured his friend would be easy to spot.

When the feather came into view, d'Artagnan cupped his hands together and gave a great shout. " _ARAMIS!_ " His friend was with the captain. Both men were trying to herd everyone inside to safety. When he noted the marksman's head jerk around to stare in his direction, d'Artagnan frantically began motioning for Aramis to come over.

++++

"Captain, d'Artagnan appears in dire need of my assistance." Noting his commanding officer's blue eyes narrow, Aramis pointed over to where the boy stood.

From his vantage point, Treville noted a body laying at the youth's feet. His own eyes widened in dismay, when he recognized the familiar form of his lieutenant. Giving an almighty shove to Aramis' back, he bellowed, " _ATHOS IS DOWN! GO!_ "

"I can't leave you alone to deal with all of this, Sir." Everything was in a shambles and twas Aramis' duty to stay by his captain's side and see things through. No matter if part of him wanted to heed the young Gascon's call.

"I'm more than capable of handling things," retorted Treville. "Besides Porthos is working his way over to me and between the two of us I believe we shall be fine."

Without further argument, Aramis swiftly sped across the grounds over to d'Artagnan and Athos. Kneeling down beside his wounded brother he suddenly ended up covering Athos' body protectively when another shot whizzed past his head. Twas then that Athos' eyes snapped open searching for something or someone.

"If that... fool boy ends... up full of... holes I will not... be held... responsible... _nom de Dieu!_ "

"You could not be so severely hurt, Athos, if you're already grumbling about our young one." But when the boy landed beside Aramis, with a resounding thud, he began to wonder what he was missing.

"Aramis, your instincts... saved the lad." Letting his friend turn him onto his uninjured right side, Athos grimaced against the pain Aramis' probing fingers produced.

"Yet, you're the one that got shot," countered Aramis. Ducking his head, from yet another musketball, he cursed. " _Merde!_ "

"Keep d'Artagnan within your sights." Gritting his teeth, Athos' eyes screwed tightly shut. "Whomever is doing this... is after the child."

His mind full of questions, Aramis knew that it was neither the time nor the place to figure out why the lad was being targeted. Removing his blue sash, he secured it neatly in place to staunch the flow of blood. "The ball's still in there."

"Tell me... something... I did not know?" was Athos' dry retort adding an eyeroll for good measure.

"D'Artagnan and I have to get you inside so I can remove it." Hearing a muffled oath coming from the youngster, Aramis glanced sideways at him. "You all right?"

He really needed to get his hair cut, d'Artagnan thought, as he blew another long strand away from his face. Snapping back at his friend, he snorted. "Define _all right_?"

"Sorry I asked." Returning his concentration upon his disgruntled patient, Aramis tried to get Athos into a sitting position. "D'Artagnan, upon the count of three you and I will lift him up and make a run for the Palais-Cardinal."

"If Athos is correct and I'm the one marked for death here shouldn't _I_ be the last person helping you?" When a bottle of wine, sitting upon the table above them, exploded over their heads from a stray shot, d'Artagnan gave Aramis a pointed look. "As I was saying..."

"If you were _saying_ twas a terrible waste of a good vintage then I agree." When that didn't get the response Aramis was going for, he huffed tiredly and gave in. "Okay. What do you propose then?" Wanting nothing more than to get all of them to safety, Aramis was fast losing his patience with this entire situation.

Off in the distance, all three of them could hear Captain Treville bellowing out his anger at the other soldiers over not locating the enemy. It made all of them wince but there were bigger things to be concerned over. Like getting one angry, wounded lieutenant out of harm's way.

Not bothering to respond verbally to Aramis' question, d'Artagnan instead managed to snag an arm belonging to one of the kitchen staff as the man had been attempting to run away. Pulling him down to his level, d'Artagnan looked him in the eye. "You have to help Aramis get Athos out of here." He could tell the other man was bewildered and probably wondering why d'Artagnan himself couldn't do it.

Not having time to explain himself to the man, d'Artagnan knew what needed to be done. His brothers needed a diversion so that they could get away clean, that much was a given. A quick pat to Aramis' shoulder and then he set off. Hearing both his friend's roar of rage upon his actions, he shouted over his shoulder, " _TIS ME HE WANTS... NOW GET GOING!_ "

"If I get shot... again... for nothing... I shall make that... pup... rue the day." Literally being dragged between the two men, Athos' worries deepened over his protégé.

++++

D'Artagnan understood why the shooter hadn't been captured or outright killed yet. Most of the Red Guards and Musketeers were too busy still getting all the guests rounded up and to safety. Their number was quite large, thanks to the many invitations sent out by Cardinal Richelieu. Twas hard to think of his parrains in their given titles. Oftentimes he simply thought of them as his honorary oncles. Still, when duty called, d'Artagnan was getting better at thinking of them in terms of cardinal and captain.

Dodging another shot, d'Artagnan jumped upon the top of several tables put together and ran the length of them. Leaping into the air he began bending forward before landing. With a tuck and a roll, he instantly gained his feet. Feeling it best, d'Artagnan made haste for the trees. This way innocent lives wouldn't be lost and the shooter could take pot shots without him worrying about collateral damage.

Just thinking of Athos back there, injured because of him, gave d'Artagnan the momentum he needed and twas as if his feet had grown wings. Soon he found himself within the cover of the woods. While still breathing hard from his exertions, d'Artagnan pulled out his pistol and main gauche. Deciding that if the enemy wouldn't come to him then twas up to him to draw the enemy out. Weaving in and out between the trees, d'Artagnan wondered when they'd meet head on.

++++

Mmmmm, his prey appears to have decided to join him. This could turn out to Deville's advantage. He wouldn't have to waste ammunition any longer. Once he had d'Artagnan in his sights, twould be an easy thing to do away with the boy. Though the brat's display of acrobatics was a surprise, the kid couldn't do anything like that in the woods. With an evil grin crossing his features, Deville carefully picked his way over downed tree-limbs. It certainly wouldn't do to trip himself up.

Ah, but revenge would be sweet. Deville could almost taste it. Once the young Gascon was dead by his hand, he realized that leaving Paris would be his only option. Deville didn't care. Making a fresh start in another town wouldn't be anything new. Wondering how long twould take the pretty lad to find him, he chuckled softly to himself.

++++

_Inside the Palais-Cardinal_

Having his hysterical guests under one roof was not how Richelieu had intended the day to go. With a rueful shake of his head, he made his rounds trying to calm frazzled nerves. Knowing he couldn't take much more of this, Richelieu sent word to the lads that worked his own private stables. This way they could start making preparations for most of his guests to go back home.

Athos had been taken to one of Richelieu's private rooms. Last he had checked, the lieutenant was howling in pain from the removal of the ball that Aramis had dug out. Since Athos had refused to be medicated before the extraction, it only served the soldier right that he now was complaining about how much it had hurt. These soldiers thought they were made of steel. But when it came right down to it they were as mortal as any person made of flesh and blood. 

Walking from room to room, he had been hoping to run into Jean-Armand. When he finally spotted him, Armand strode directly over. "No one knows what happened to d'Artagnan." Poking the other man in the chest, he snapped. "Do you?"

"I'm in the dark as much as you, Armand." Rubbing the back of his neck, Jean-Armand sighed. "What a mess this has all turned out to be." He was seriously worried about his filleul. The boy was impetuous and that sometimes led to d'Artagnan getting into things that he couldn't get out of under his own steam. Actually the words _trouble magnet_ came to mind. At least that's what Francoise always used to call the youngster when she was upset with the pup. His thoughts abruptly came to a halt, upon noting his upset marksman.

Aramis streaked by muttering out loud to himself. It had both the older men wondering what had happened. They hoped Athos hadn't taken a turn for the worst.

"I like to give the gift of absence to those who don't appreciate my presence," huffed Aramis.

Signaling the soldier over to his side, Treville became concerned. "How fares my lieutenant?"

Having removed his chapeau, Aramis' long fingers ran through his tangled locks. Rolling his eyes, he blew out a long breath. "Same as ever.... cantankerous to the last."

"Ah!" Blue eyes filled with amusement, Treville grinned. "Giving you hell then."

"Why not?" shrugged Aramis. "I'm _le diable_ didn't you know?" When he had both the cardinal and his captain laughing over his quip, his own mood lightened considerably.

"Aramis, do you know where d'Artagnan is?" questioned Richelieu, not liking the look that passed over the marksman's face.

"No one's bothered to tell either of you then?" Twin shakes of greying heads made Aramis wish he wouldn't have had to be the bearer of this news. "D'Artagnan figured since he was the one in the shooter's sights that he'd cause a distraction so that I could get away with Athos."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Treville exchanged a long look with Aramis. "Last seen?"

"Heading for the trees where the shots were coming from."

" _Mere de Dieu!_ " exclaimed Richelieu. "Right into that madman's hands."

A sly smile began to slip through Aramis' worry. "Don't count the lad out, gentlemen. Our young Gascon is quite resourceful once he puts his mind to it." Arching a brow, he added, "As both of you are familiar with I'm sure."

"Aramis has the right of it," gruffly agreed Treville. "Guess I should stop in and see Athos..." He never got to finish what he was saying, as sounds of shouting reached his ears. "Or not." Going over to see what the fuss was all about, his concerns over his filleul momentarily got shuffled to the back of his mind.

Richelieu still was fretful over d'Artagnan being all alone and decided to do something about it. "Aramis, take as many men as you need and go find the lad."

"As you wish, Your Eminence." Bowing respectfully, Aramis swiftly went to do as ordered. Even though he had told them that their youngest could take care of himself, his own doubts began to haunt him. At the time Aramis had an armful of Athos and could do nothing to stop the pup. While thinking of all this, he surprised himself to discover he was outside already. "D'Artagnan, you better stay alive."

++++

_Back in the woods_

" _Come on out, kid! I know you're there!_ " shouted Deville. " _No sense in hiding any longer. Or are you afraid of me?_ " His cackling laughter shook the leaves dangling above his head from a low limb. Stepping carefully over tree roots, and the such, Deville kept his eyes open for the Gascon. " _If you're thinking of sneaking up on me... bonne chance to that!_ "

What Deville hadn't seen, nor was he supposed to, was a youth climbing up one of the trees like a monkey. He would bide his time until it was just right and then twould be Deville finding himself upon the losing end.

++++

_Notes:_

_Nom de Dieu_ \- God damn it  
_Parrains_ \- godfathers  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Bonne chance_ \- good luck

 _Quote: "I like to give the gift of absence to those who don't appreciate my presence."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Sometime in the early part of the afternoon_

_Our young Gascon was last seen... up in a tree_

D'Artagnan had been always good at tracking so it hadn't taken him very long to locate his enemy. Actually it had been a piece of cake, since the smell alone gave the individual away. High above the the man now, he balanced himself upon a thick tree limb that would hold his weight. As a petit garcon he had enjoyed climbing upon nearly everything in his path and jumping off of them, much to his maman's horror.

Trees though were d'Artagnan's specialty. He recalled once, at the tender age of seven, believing that he could fly. Jumping from a bow of a particularly large tree, he soon found out twas a false assumption upon his part. Having a broken arm, and a multitude of bruises, had been awful but worse was the scolding d'Artagnan had received afterwards from his parents. He honestly didn't know which had hurt the most.

Peering down at the enemy, he still couldn't make out the features of the man below him very well. It bothered d'Artagnan, wondering who hated him so much that they were willing to murder him. Having not been in Paris awfully long, the only name that came immediately to mind was Deville's. Scoffing at the notion, because the cut-purse was currently residing in the Bastille, d'Artagnan figured that when it came right down to that it didn't really matter whom his foe now was.

++++

Somehow Deville lost track of the kid. There wasn't any movement amongst the trees nor did he hear the cracking of twigs or branches breaking underfoot. The hairs upon the back of his neck began standing up. Twas the boy something otherworldly, that d'Artagnan could disappear as if in a puff of smoke? Shaking that fanciful thought away, Deville still felt uneasy.

++++

From his perch, d'Artagnan felt laughter bubbling up inside him. He knew that after he pounced upon the unsuspecting criminal the man's wits would scatter and the canaille rendered senseless. As to the latter, that may have been wishful thinking upon d'Artagnan's part. Either way, he had the element of surprise and would play it for all twas worth. Waiting for the right moment to attack d'Artagnan made sure the enemy was precisely where he wanted him and then he... leaped.

++++

A heavy weight fell upon his back, bringing Deville to his knees and then onto his stomach. The pressure remained there, as he felt the removal of all his weapons and heard them being tossed into the brush. All the air had been sucked from his lungs. It wasn't until the pressure eased, and he had been twisted onto his back, that Deville managed to breathe easier. But now twas d'Artagnan that stood over him, face white with shock. The lad had already tucked his main gauche back into his weapons belt. Swallowing hard, Deville observed the Gascon whip out his sword next. Evidently his escape had yet to be announced throughout the Musketeer regiment, judging by the brat's expression, which was just as much a surprise to Deville as the boy's jump from that tree.

Pointing the tip of his blade at Deville's throat, d'Artagnan's voice was menacing. "I shall suggest to Captain Treville to have you installed in the Chatelet next time since the walls of the Bastille have proven flimsy at best."

"I'll simply escape the same way," snorted Deville. "But listen to me carefully, boy. Next time you won't see or hear me coming for you."

" _Get up!_ " Standing back, d'Artagnan gave the voleur room to do as ordered. Feeling better from having disarmed the man, he still didn't trust Deville an inch. The cut-purse's taunts hadn't bothered him in the slightest. Since coming to the city, d'Artagnan had actually heard much worse thrown at him and his friends. Feeling antsy, he wanted nothing more than to get back to the Palais-Cardinal to deliver this scum to his commander and also to see how his mentor fared.

With pistol held in his right hand, d'Artagnan poked the voleur in the back with his rapier. " _Move!_ " Only a few steps were managed by both of them, when Aramis and eight other Musketeers came through the trees. They stood within a few feet of d'Artagnan and his prisoner. Happy to see his friend, he jerked his head toward Deville as if to say _see what I'm bringing home_.

Somewhere, in his search for their youngest, Aramis lost his beloved chapeau. He'd have to double back for it before one of his comrades accidentally trampled it to death. " _Ma foi!_ You're a crafty one!" Eyeing the state of the lad's clothing, and that of Deville's, Aramis gave them some consideration but had to ask anyway, "How'd you catch him?"

Acting quite innocent, raising one finger, d'Artagnan pointed straight up.

Dark eyes followed the single digit. Still, Aramis was at a loss as to what the pup was suggesting. Surely the lad hadn't meant divine intervention had helped d'Artagnan with the capture. Listening to Claude's, and some of the other men's, muffled laughter from behind him he turned his head to stare back at them.

"Been with the boy before." Swiping at his eyes, Claude winked at the young Gascon. "Showed us how to climb a tree without breaking a sweat." Lips pursed, ruefully shaking his head, he grinned. "Tis still something that I'd rather not do."

Tilting his head, studying d'Artagnan closely, Aramis folded his arms. "So you literally got the _jump_ upon him. Très bonne." Slapping the boy's back, he made his way over to Deville. "Aren't you supposed to be in the Bastille?" Sighing, he eventually pushed the dratted cut-purse into his fellow brother's arms. Before leaving the woods though, d'Artagnan snagged at Aramis' doublet. Lifting a brow, he waited for the youth's question.

"Athos? Is he okay?"

Chuckling, Aramis warmly squeezed the back of the pup's neck. "Come with and see for yourself." When the lad began lagging behind, head hanging down trying to avoid eye contact, Aramis surmised what the problem actually was. "Oui, Athos is upset with you but his anger will soon pass upon seeing that you are in one piece." Snapping his fingers, he added, "Having caught Deville won't hurt either."

"Hope so," was d'Artagnan's whispered response. His adrenaline rush, all but gone now, had left him feeling anxious about his mentor's reception.

"Lad, they can't eat you." In trying to cheer the boy up, Aramis frowned upon noting his words had the opposite effect.

" _They?_ " Gulping down his sudden fear, d'Artagnan realized that it wouldn't be just his mentor who would be mad at him. "Mes parrains," he murmured to himself. He really was in hot water this time, without a paddle to help steer him into calmer waters.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

Resting upon his good side, the Musketeer Athos glared at her. Apparently she had the audacity to bring him some nourishing food. With a quick bob of her head, Charlotte made a hasty exit through the open door.

Stepping aside so as the petite maid could scurry out, Treville realized that his lieutenant wasn't in a genial mood. "Did you have to scare her to death, Athos?"

" _Pfft!_ " Scowling at the food Athos turned onto his back with a huff of annoyance from the pain that his movement produced. "If she can not take the heat..." Leaving the rest unsaid, he quirked a brow.

"I guess twould be too much to ask for you to be a model patient while under the cardinal's roof." Twisting his mustache, Treville listened to his man begin muttering under his breath. "I came to let you know that word's been sent that d'Artagnan caught the man responsible for all this mayhem."

"Is he back yet?" If only Athos could get out of this infernal bed. But his first attempt at trying to sit up had proved a disaster. His foul vocabulary alone had scared another maid out of his room. So for the moment, leaving twas an impossibility.

"Should be here shortly." Knowing the younger man, Treville was concerned Athos would somehow coerce Aramis into helping him get out of bed. It wouldn't do and he was going to have to warn Aramis ahead of time.

"Who do I give my thanks to for my wound?" growled Athos.

"In the book of people we don't like, we all have that one person who'd go upon the cover." Staring hard at his lieutenant's pain-filled face, Treville rubbed his forehead. "Can you not guess whom that would be?"

Not missing a beat, Athos' blue eyes turned a turbulent blue. " _I do not believe it!_ " Hissing, he added, " _He is wallowing in the Bastille!_ "

"One would think that but alas Deville somehow escaped his cell." Heads were going to roll over that, when Treville discovered how that madman got away.

"D'Artagnan's not injured then?"

"Pierre ran ahead to give us the good news." Removing his chapeau Treville threw it carelessly upon the end of Athos' bed. Pulling up a chair he shuffled it closer to his wounded soldier's bedside. "Twould seem that you, Porthos and Aramis need to have my filleul give lessons in tree climbing."

Perhaps he had developed a fever, Athos thought, or Treville had, for what the officer had just said made not a wit of sense. "I am sure there was a reason for your statement."

Chuckling, Treville nodded. "I'll have the lad explain it to you later." Crossing his legs, he allowed himself to relax somewhat. "Tis something that d'Artagnan had not grown out of." Ah so now he had Athos' complete attention, as his lieutenant appeared to perk up upon his words. Anything that helped the man understand how the youngster's mind worked was of great interest to his Musketeer. "Richelieu and myself used to call the boy a _petit monkey_ because of it." Knowing that Athos didn't enjoy guessing games, Treville still refused to explain himself. "As soon as d'Artagnan arrives I'll send him to you."

"Merci," grumbled Athos. "Twould be a great relief to me to see that my protégé has not come to any harm."

"Don't worry yourself." Laughing at the look Athos sent him, Treville tried to compose himself. "You'll get grey hairs like myself and Richelieu if you keep doing so." Whispering, he added, "How do you think _we_ got them?"

" _Mon Dieu!_ " After the captain's words, Athos closed his eyes. So this is what he had to look forward to. Pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes snapped open to catch more amusement covering Treville's features. "Tis nothing funny about any of this."

Standing back up, Treville said, "I disagree. You have to see it from my point of view." Slapping his chapeau back on, he gently patted Athos' shoulder. "Now I must go check to see if my filleul's back yet."

Upon the captain's exit, Athos tried once more to sit up and once more failed. " _Le diable!_ " This would not do. As soon as Aramis comes to see him, he shall get his friend to help him get out of here. It felt as if the walls were closing in upon him and Athos could not stand it for much longer. Twiddling his thumbs, he wondered if he should send for that pretty petit maid again. His food had gotten cold and his stomach felt empty. So when one of the page's popped his head in to deliver a book, Athos had asked to read, he requested Charlotte's presence again. Promising himself that he would be kinder to her this time, he patiently waited for her.

++++

_Cardinal Richelieu's private rooms_

Standing before both his parrains, d'Artagnan fidgited from one foot to the other. Waiting for twin lectures to fall upon his head, he looked everywhere but at them. Upon hearing both the older men clear their throats, d'Artagnan knew they wanted his full attention.

"Child," started Armand impatiently, "you shall be the death of both myself and Jean-Armand." Walking a circle around his filleul, he stopped directly in front of d'Artagnan. "Still, twas a brilliant move you made to capture Deville."

"Speaking of that cut-purse," snapped Jean-Armand, "we still need to find out how he escaped the Bastille."

"Oh I discovered that upon our return here," brightly said d'Artagnan bolstered from his oncle's words of praise. "He paid one of the guards off." Noting the raised brows his explanation had caused, he told them what he'd threatened the canaille with. "I mentioned to Deville that his next stay would be in the Chatelet."

"Indeed it shall and I will make sure none of the guards are corruptable." Jean-Armand's tone was grim, as he would make it his business to find out which of the Bastille guards had been bribed.

"You pulled off your _monkey_ routine faultlessly, d'Artagnan." Not sure whether this was something to congratulate the boy upon Jean-Armand did so anyway. "But remember you can't always rely upon that trick."

Slyly smiling, d'Artagnan simply remained quiet.

"Ah, we know that _innocent_ look very well," pointed out Armand. Exchanging a _what can you do look_ with his old friend, he stared fondly at the youngster.

"May I go see Athos now?"

"Your mentor's quite out of sorts but he's just as anxious to see you too, d'Artagnan." Rolling his eyes, Jean-Armand added, "Do remember to tell Athos how you caught the batard. I left him a bit up in the air over it." His filleul's gay laughter filled the room, as the youth closed the door upon his way out.

++++

_Notes:_

_Cut-purse_ \- cut-throat  
_Canaille_ \- scoundrel  
_Voleur_ \- thief  
_Ma foi_ \- my faith  
_Très bonne_ \- very good  
_Mes parrains_ \- my godfathers  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Le diable_ \- the devil

 _Batard_ \- bastard

 _Quote: "In the book of people we don't like, we all have that one person who'd go on the cover."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Still early in the afternoon - Palais-Cardinal_

Having been told by his parrains which room his mentor was in, d'Artagnan found himself walking down the long corridor until he found the right one. Just before he reached his destination, a lovely looking maid stopped him.

"You are the protégé of _that one_?" Pointing at the room Charlotte had recently left, her eyes kindled.

At first, d'Artagnan wasn't sure what he should say because the young woman before him appeared ready to do battle. Guilt by association came to mind. But what else was new, in his friendship with the inseparables. A truthful lad, for the most part, d'Artagnan wouldn't lie to her. "Oui."

"Then I feel very sorry for you, Monsieur." With an indignant snort, Charlotte went back about her business muttering the entire time about Athos' bad attitude and lack of manners.

Curious over the brief, volatile, exchange, d'Artagnan quietly eased himself into Athos' room. Happy to discover his mentor sitting up in bed his joy was somewhat tarnished, however, upon noting the ferocious expression upon the older man's face. "Dare I ask?" Casually leaning one shoulder against the wall with legs and arms crossed, hands tucked underneath his armpits, d'Artagnan hoped Athos would not prevaricate.

" _That... that woman should be put in charge of our recruits!_ " angrily snorted Athos. " _Do this... you should not be doing that!_ " Huffing out his rage, he caught the boy's amused look. " _I have not received so many orders since I was newly joined to the regiment!_ "

Taking a line out of Aramis' book, d'Artagnan slowly smiled. "Methinks you doth protest too much." Quickly ducking from the pillow thrown at him, his mirth couldn't be contained as he burst out laughing.

"Your levity at an injured man is not acceptable." Irritated with the pup, Athos observed d'Artagnan picking up the pillow and cross over to his bed.

"Lean forward and let me place this back behind you." His mentor obediently obeyed which was something of a surprise for d'Artagnan, as he knew how stubborn Athos could be at times. "Before I came into your room she had asked me if I were your protégé and then proceeded to pity me." When Athos' shaggy brows shot up to near the man's hairline d'Artagnan started to think, abeit too late, that keeping his mouth shut would have proved more prudent.

" _That does it!_ " Throwing his blankets aside, even though in much discomfort, Athos grabbed d'Artagnan's right arm and tried to pull himself out of bed. "I was going to get Aramis to help me out of here," a quick onceover glance at the youngster and Athos figured one brother would do just as well as the next, "but by far you are the better substitute."

Removing the overly tight grip upon his arm, d'Artagnan gently pushed his mentor back against the mounds of pillows. "You're not in any condition to be moving around yet."

Rolling his eyes at the Gascon youth, Athos snarled out his displeasure. " _Then keep that viper away from me!_ "

"Did you ever think that perhaps you bring out the worst in her with your attitude toward the fairer sex?" Sitting upon the edge of the bed, d'Artagnan grinned impishly. "I bet away from here... and _you_ ," he added with delight, "she's all sweetness and light."

" _Bah!_ " Pounding his fist on top of the bed, Athos disagreed. "You have been around Aramis way too much."

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, d'Artagnan studied his friend. "Perhaps you need to speak with someone about your negative attitude with women in general." It hadn't escaped his notice how Athos dealt with most of the ladies of their acquaintance, except for Constance of course and the queen.

Scowling at the pup, Athos wanted to change the subject. His eyes connecting with his protégé's he said, "Treville told me you caught Deville single-handedly and that you would explain how twas done."

D'Artagnan went into a short description of events that had brought about the cut-purse's downfall. He got a charge out of Athos' reaction, as his brother appeared completely stunned over how twas accomplished.

"Now Treville's remark makes better sense to me." Folding his arms, Athos studied the boy. "However I refuse to climb a tree."

" _Climbing trees_ is best left to younger men. Do you not think, Athos?"

"Mmmmm, I believe you have just insulted me." Not truly upset, Athos reached out to tap the child upon the nose. "Next time though you shall not go off alone like that. If I had not been injured you would not have done so."

"All's well anyway," shrugged d'Artagnan. "Upon another note, however, I've been told by a certain few that you refused a pain draught that would have made it easier on yourself while Aramis removed the ball."

"I was not in the mood to be rendered senseless." A brooding look overcame Athos just then.

Not having a witty comeback, d'Artagnan hummed softly, while playing with the blanket's loose threads. "Bien, Deville's now installed at the Chatelet under heavy guard, and Captain Treville's hunting for the other guard or guards that were bribed into letting him escape in the first place."

"Chatelet is to good for the likes of that scum," growled Athos. "In his thirst for revenge against you he could have injured or killed the cardinal, Their Majestys... or all of them."

"I'm sure King Louis isn't going to let Deville off lightly." Patting his mentor's hand, d'Artagnan added, "Give it some time after all this just happened."

"Despite how it came about I am proud of how you handled yourself in this situation." If d'Artagnan kept up in this manner, Athos would not be surprised if the lad earned his pauldron sooner than expected.

Ducking his head, d'Artagnan murmured, "Merci."

"By the way, where the deuce has Porthos been? I expected him to show his face before this." It had always been that way when any of them were hurt, to be always there for one another. This was the first time, in Athos' memory, that one of them had been absent.

"The captain more or less put him in charge of making sure everyone's accounted for and hadn't been injured by any stray shots." Watching Athos nodding his head in acceptance, d'Artagnan stood up. Adjusting his doublet, until he got it just right, he started for the door. "I'm supposed to report to the king as soon as my visit with you was over. I don't want to keep him waiting much longer."

"Do not daudle upon my account, d'Artagnan." Waving the child off, Athos smiled proudly. "Go on... off with you now." Once the young Gascon had gone, he picked up his book and thumbed to the first chapter. "Now if only Charlotte keeps her nose out of my room I shall be grateful."

++++

_Outside of Palais-Cardinal_

Upon his way to retrieve Zad, d'Artagnan stopped to listen as Porthos dressed down one of the newer recruits.

"I see what the problem is 'ere." Standing nose to nose with the soldier he was speaking with, Porthos snarled. "I'm talkin' in French and you're listenin' in Dumbass!" The recruit continued to give him a blank stare. Disgusted that he needed to repeat his instructions again, Porthos did so. Observing the would-be Musketeer beat a hasty retreat back to some of the guests, that were still waiting for their carriages, he then felt a presence beside him.

Coming upon the larger man's right side, d'Artagnan grinned up at Porthos. "Having fun are we?"

" _Fun_ is me winnin' at cards over at The Wren, brat." Grinning, Porthos slapped the kid's back hard. So much so that he had to reach out to hold d'Artagnan in place as the whelp nearly toppled over. "Believe me that's the first thing I'm gonna do once I'm off duty." Having earlier been told by Aramis how the pup had taken captive that batard, Porthos' dark eyes danced. "Now I ain't gonna be climbing trees anytime soon. Just so ya know. Still, I think some of our younger recruits could do with the benefit of your expertise in that area."

"I shall speak with the captain and see what he wants me to do in that regard. For now however I've been requested to see His Majesty." Bidding his friend a fond au revoir, d'Artagnan continued upon his way to the stable where his horse was.

++++

_A short time later - The Louvre, King Louis' chambers_

"This certainly wasn't how I expected Cardinal Richelieu's fete to turn out." Pouring himself a glass of wine, Louis offered one to d'Artagnan.

While savoring the wine's flavor, d'Artagnan had been thinking that as far as fete's go this one had been more than memorable.

"Your quick thinking was what saved us, lad." Staring out of a large picture window, Louis stood there for a moment taking in the scenery. "Keep this up and you'll soon find a pauldron sitting upon your shoulder."

Choking upon his last sip of wine, d'Artagnan tried to clear his throat. "Wouldn't the other Musketeers resent me if I earned it at so young an age, Louis?"

Turning to face the boy, Louis smiled. "Actions speak louder than words ever could and yours shout to the heavens." When Anne decided to join them, he offered her a glass too which she graciously declined.

"D'Artagnan, you are the hero of the hour." Walking over to the boy Anne gave him a warm hug. "I believe twas the art of _tree climbing_ that proved effective in the end." Her impish grin was contagious and, within moments, had all of them chortling. "I didn't know that was part of Musketeer training."

Blushing to the roots of his hair, d'Artagnan gave her a sheepish grin. "I used to do that all the time at home."

"Of course you did." Still finding humor in the situation, Louis took in his young friend's obvious discomfort over being teased. "I should like to learn that ability if you wouldn't mind."

Head shooting back up d'Artagnan stared at Louis in disbelief. "Cardinal Richelieu and Captain Treville would not allow it, I think."

"You just leave those two to me." Exchanging an amused look with Anne, Louis placed his drink down.

"If it wouldn't shock everyone I would enjoy learning it myself." Serious about it, Anne glanced over at Louis to see his reaction.

"I wouldn't think of stopping you, ma chere, but I do fear you might injure yourself." Folding her in his arms, Louis placed a kiss on top of Anne's blonde head.

"I'm not afraid," she chuckled. "It sounds quite fun."

"Then, d'Artagnan, you are looking at your newest pupils." Holding out his right hand palm down, Louis waited for the lad and his wife to follow. " _All for one..._ "

" _And one for all!_ " three voices chimed together and then broke out in gales of laughter.

++++

_Chatelet_

Stewing in his cell, Deville vowed to get out. Bribery was only one way to achieve it and if he couldn't do it like before there were always other means. D'Artagnan had proven a challenge. A cat with nine lives if one looked at it that way. In his years surviving the streets of Paris everyone had an Achilles' heel. Deville would make sure to discover the boy's, when he got out of here.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

Things have returned to normal, more or less, and Musketeers resumed their regular duties.

Porthos had taken a break from training some of the men. Sitting in front of an overturned barrel, he had gotten a small card game going with Marcus. Having won three hands in a row, Porthos watched his opponent throw down his own cards in disgust.

"I should have known better than to play with you, Porthos." Placing a few livre into the other man's hand, Marcus grimaced. "I call it quits before you begger me."

"Next time, eh?" Pleased at his winnings, Porthos grinned.

"Not if I see you first," retorted Marcus.

As Marcus went back to his duties, Porthos felt the weight of a hand upon his shoulder.

"Fleecing one of our brothers again, mon frere?" Nudging his friend in the side, Aramis noted the coins in Porthos' hand.

"When I think back upon all the things I've done in my life," remarked Porthos, with a wink, "tis a wonder I didn't get arrested more."

"Perhaps I shall give Marcus some tips so that when there's a next time he comes out the winner." His dark eyes sparkling merrily, Aramis laughed at his brother's outraged expression. "Never fear, all your trade secrets are safe with me."

"I better get back to work." Pocketing his money, Porthos took a long last look at the marksman. Perhaps twas time for Porthos to learn some new tricks.

++++

_Later at the Bonacieux’s_

Once d'Artagnan arrived back home, Constance already was preparing dinner. "You've been busy so I've heard."

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he still was, that she'd known about the disastrous fete. "Word really does travel fast around here."

"Of course." Wiping her hands down the sides of her apron, she went about setting the table. "Would you tell Jacques that dinner will be ready in about half an hour?"

"I don't mind but isn't that usually something you do?" Puzzled by how Constance wouldn't look him in the eye, d'Artagnan figured something must have happened again between the couple.

"Don't get me wrong, d'Artagnan, I love being married," giggled Constance. "Tis great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life."

Ah. Now he knew for certain that things were not quite up to snuff. "What did you do... rob someone?"

"Non." Waving a hand in the air, Constance grinned. "Nothing like that." Going on to explain she said, "I made a purchase that Jacques took exception to." Going over to a box, sitting upon one of the chairs, she opened it up exposing a lovely pair of shoes.

Peering down at the pretty footwear, d'Artagnan frowned. "He's upset over those?"

An impish light entered Constance's blue eyes. "The little voice in your head that says... _buy the shoes_... that's the one to listen to and I did."

"Perhaps I should give Jacques an advance upon my rent," suggested d'Artagnan. "That may improve his mood."

"Could you afford to do that?" Before heading back to the kitchen, she closed the shoe box.

"Oui. My parents sent me some money to tide me over until my next pay."

"I'm sure Jacques would appreciate it." Her foot tapping the floor rapidly, Constance suddenly felt the need to make sure the boy understand why she did it. "I haven't had a treat like this in a long time and normally I watch what I spend but those shoes cried out to me... I couldn't resist." Tilting her head to one side, her eyes connected with d'Artagnan's. "I'm sure you have the same feeling when looking at a fancy sword that you'd love to buy."

She had the right of it and so he found himself taking the steps up to his room. Finding what he needed, d'Artagnan went in search of Jacques. Discovering the older man in the sewing room, he informed him about dinner. D'Artagnan then proceeded to drop some coins upon the table where Jacques was working. 

Perplexed, Jacques stared at the money without blinking. "What is this for?"

"I gather from what Constance just told me that you may be short of funds." If anyone would have told d'Artagnan that his dry tone sounded perfectly like Athos', he wouldn't have believed them.

Knowing to what the lad referred, Jacques huffed. "You don't truly know a woman until you understand every word she _isn't_ saying to you."

Understanding that Jacques hadn't known about the shoes until the deed had been done, d'Artagnan thought back to a similar occurrence between maman and papa.

"After Constance returned from delivering some orders, she acted like nothing was out of the ordinary." Folding up the fabric, he had been measuring, Jacques clucked his tongue. "I knew something was up when she began preparing my favorite dishes for dinner."

"Aramis has some interesting notions concerning the state of married life," offered d'Artagnan.

"Since that man has actively avoided the matrimonial stakes," snorted Jacques, "his theories should prove most interesting to hear." Placing the material he'd been working with away, he turned back to the lad.

"He once pointed out that marriage is all about spending the rest of your life with someone you want to strangle," d'Artagnan thought Jacques appeared stunned but he continued anyway, "and not doing it because you'd miss them."

Jacques didn't know whether to be shocked at the outrageous statement or to agree with Aramis' musings.

"Of course Porthos told me that Aramis had just come from a philosophy lesspn he had given Madame Neuville." D'Artagnan's lips twitched upon noting Jacque's perplexed features again. "Tis something Aramis observed happen between her and the lady's husband when the latter had returned home earlier than expected from work."

Reading a lot into the youth's words, Jacques managed a rough laugh. "Tis a wonder your friend hasn't been challenged to a duel over one of his dalliances yet."

"Somehow Aramis always manages to charm the husbands." Chuckling d'Artagnan added, "Or he ends up dangling from window sills instead."

With both of them laughing, they followed the unmistakable aromas coming from the kitchen which meant that dinner was ready.

++++

_Notes:_

_Parrains_ \- godfathers  
_Cut-purse_ \- cut-throat  
_Voleur_ \- thief  
_Batard_ \- bastard

 _Quote: "I see what the problem is here. I'm talking in English and you're listening in Dumbass!"_ \- from Aunty Acid. Though all of you will see that I substituted the word *French* to make better sense.

 _Quote: "When I think back on all the things I've done in my life it's a wonder I didn't get arrested more."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I love being married. It's great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "The little voice in your head that says... 'buy the shoes'... that's the one to listen to."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "You don't truly know a woman until you understand every word she isn't saying to you."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Marriage is all about spending the rest of your life with someone you want to strangle... and not doing it because you'd miss them."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more or less a light-hearted chapter.  
> Sigmund had express great delight in wanting to read about Louis' tree climbing abilities. LOL! So this chapter's more or less dedicated to her.
> 
> Now as for tree climbing.... I myself have never done so but have watched many poor and inept attempts of others when a kid at our local playground where we had lots of trees around.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++
> 
>  

_Next day, late morn - Royal Palace, King Louis' chambers_

" _Absolutely out of the question! I forbid it!_ " barked Treville, with a steely-eyed glare at d'Artagnan who stood near the young monarch's side appearing innocent as a lamb.

"Treville," drawled King Louis, in a somewhat bored tone, "shall I remind you which one of us is king?"

Exasperated, as this argument had been going back and forth for the past fifteen minutes or so, Treville shook his head.

"Then tis settled." Knowing his captain was quite irritated with him, King Louis still added with relish, "Anne's coming along too."

"Just to watch you fall and break your fool neck?" Arching a brow, Treville belatedly added, "Sire."

Chuckling, King Louis' eyes filled with amusement. "She's going to try her hand at it as well." What do you know? His words apparently rendered Treville speechless or else the man was in a state of complete shock. Probably both.

Pulling himself together, Treville managed to ground out, "When shall this _lunacy_ take place?"

"After lunch." Throwing a companionable arm across d'Artagnan's shoulders, King Louis winked at the boy. "I wouldn't even contemplate such an endeavor upon an empty stomach."

With another glare aimed again at his filleul, Treville bowed to His Majesty and made a hasty departure.

"I'm not in his good books for the moment," murmured d'Artagnan. "Perhaps this wasn't such a hot idea after all, Louis."

"Nonsense! You don't realize how boring my routine is at times, mon ami." Clasping his hands behind his back, Louis studied the youngster's disbelieving face.

"Oui." Splaying his arms out wide, d'Artagnan did a full circle in the middle of the room. "I could see how one would get bored surrounded by all this wealth and the privileges that come along with it."

Lips twitching, Louis realized the lad was having fun at his expense but he let it slide. "I'm done with talking as I'm famished. We shall dine now and then, d'Artagnan, you'll find me a nice tall tree."

The playful look covering Louis' features would disarm most people but not d'Artagnan. "Though twas a fun pastime for myself as a child I want you to take this very seriously." Arms folded, he tried to make himself sound stern. "It won't do for you to get injured which is why I believe the captain was having a fit."

"Then find me a tree that won't prove hazardous to my health if that's what's worrying you." Laughing, Louis then went into another room to change into more suitable clothing. Staring at a closet, filled to capacity with his wardrobe, he tapped a finger upon his chin contemplating his choices. "What to wear... what to wear." Never having climbed a tree in his entire life, Louis picked out the most casual set of clothes he owned. Even if they did get ruined, there were plenty more where that came from.

While Louis was gone, d'Artagnan figured his parrain would soon be making his way over to the Palais-Cardinal. Why have one parrain mad at you when you could have two?

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

" _They're going to do what?_ " exclaimed Armand. Perhaps he'd misunderstood. "Repeat what you just said? My hearing isn't what it used to be."

"You heard me correctly the first time." Scowling at his long-time friend, Jean-Armand was glad he could make someone else unhappy.

" _This won't do! Not at all!_ " Drumming fingers nervously upon his desk, Armand stared into the other man's eyes. "And you say that Queen Anne is going to do the same thing?"

"According to Louis." Wishing all of this had been part of a nightmare he'd just woken up from, Treville gave in to a defeated sigh.

"But what are we going to do about it?" Armand dropped his face into his hands, shaking his head to and fro.

"I shall have enough Musketeers upon hand that if Their Majestys were to fall they'd be able to cushion their landing." When Armand stabbed him with a _you're jesting_ _look_ , Jean-Armand simply shrugged. "I don't know what else you expect me to do. The king's determined to have his fun and apparently so is the queen."

Running a hand down the side of his face, Armand collapsed back against his chair. "Since they won't be swayed make sure your men know to keep this to themselves. God alone knows what their subjects would think if word ever got out about their behavior."

"Look upon the bright side, Armand," pointing out at the dreary looking sky that could be seen from one of the windows, Jean-Armand continued, "it could rain." With that parting remark, he took his leave. There were soldiers to start rounding up.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

Standing before a semi-large group of his men, Treville explained the situation best he could. At first they all thought he was pulling their legs. Of course they would, he cringed internally. When they finally realized Treville was serious, the soldiers then appeared puzzled but paid attention to his orders. Pressing onward, he singled Aramis out pulling the marksman aside. "You're in charge."

"Aren't you coming along?" Even if this was a crazy idea, Aramis would have figured Treville would still want to be there. When the captain avoided answering him, he glanced over to where Porthos was. Noting the expression of concern reflected there, Aramis was relieved to know his friend felt the same as he.

By the time preparations had been made, they were ready to leave. Numbering ten in all, the Musketeers made way to the Louvre.

Riding upon Roulette, Porthos was abreast of Aramis. "This is gonna be right interestin'."

"Not quite the words I'd use," muttered Aramis. "And how in God's name is the queen going to make the climb in her skirts?"

"That's why tis interestin'," quipped Porthos. "Wonder if Athos got wind of this yet?"

"Even if he'd heard," replied Aramis, "he couldn't do much anyway with him being stuck in the palace."

"Ain't 'e the lucky one ta get ta stay in the Louvre." Chuckling, Porthos winked at his brother.

"Not the way Athos managed to get there he wasn't." All this because of how d'Artagnan managed to capture Deville. Oh and there's another thing Aramis started thinking over. If one or both of the royals got injured, their pup would never forgive himself. Inwardly wincing, Aramis shook those thoughts off. No sense in borrowing trouble. With the palace now coming into view, he did his best to act as normal as possible. Aramis would simply pretend as if this was an everyday occurance... yeah right.

Turning his horse toward the royal stables, Aramis signaled the men to follow. Once satisfied their mounts were secure, they waited outside of the palace doors for Their Majestys to appear. Their wait wasn't a long one, when the king, queen and d'Artagnan joined them. Presenting himself, Aramis bowed before the young royals. "We await our orders." Shooting a sideways glance at the boy, Aramis' dark eyes narrowed upon the lad's chagrined expression.

"Just follow us as we're not going very far," ordered King Louis. "Just over to those trees where d'Artagnan caught Deville."

A pace or two behind Their Majestys, Aramis bumped shoulders with the pup. Whispering low, he asked, "Is this wise, d'Artagnan?"

Covering his mouth, as his snort escaped, d'Artagnan stared back at Aramis with wide eyes. "For a moment there you sounded like Athos."

Quickly crossing himself, Aramis snickered. " _Mon Dieu!_ What a thing to say and I sincerely hope not."

"The king wouldn't be swayed once he was told how I apprehended that cut-purse." The new growth of hair underneath his chin had become really itchy of late. Scratching at it, he hoped it wouldn't be long before his beard grew out. For some reason it was taking longer than he'd like. All the soldiers teased him about having _peach fuzz_ and d'Artagnan was getting tired of it. When the surprising weight of two heavy hands upon his shoulders startled him, he twisted his head around. Twas then d'Artagnan's eyes collided with the smirking face of Porthos.

"Good friends don't let you do stupid things alone, kid." Chuckling, Porthos nudged the whelp in the side.

"Gee thanks you two." Grumbling to himself, d'Artagnan left both men behind so he could catch up with Louis and Anne. It was then that he paid attention to what she was wearing. "Anne, are those pants?" He saw them through the side splits in her dress.

"I've had this designed especially for me in Spain before I ever came to live here." Pushing aside some of the material, Anne gave the boy a better view of them. "I shall probably shock all the men once I remove the skirt." Beside her, Louis was grinning.

"Tis how she's able to ride more comfortably when we go out." Pressing a kiss into her hair Louis beamed, very proud of his wife's ingenuity. "Anne's quite brilliant with her ideas. Plus I love looking at her long legs encased in those." Frowning as a sudden thought occurred, he signaled the young Gascon closer. "Perhaps I should tell the men not to look when she tries to go climbing."

"Then how would they catch her if she fell?" countered d'Artagnan, with a roll of his eyes. Listening to Anne's light laughter brought about a few chuckles from himself.

"You do make a good point, lad." Louis guessed there was nothing for it. His soldiers would just have to behave themselves. It was a different matter when Anne went riding, as the Musketeers couldn't actually see the pants with her skirts covering them. Ah bien they would just have to make the best of it, but if Louis caught any lingering glances in his wife's direction, he'd make sure the fellow went straight back to the Garrison.

When d'Artagnan finally stopped to point at one of the trees, he noted Louis craning his neck to stare upward. His friend didn't say anything for a full minute but d'Artagnan patiently waited for him to say something.

"Is there perchance a smaller one around? That one looks rather too tall to me?" Anne, by Louis' side, gripped his hand giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

A slow smile began to spread across d'Artagnan's lips, as he went about finding another. Stopping in front of one that appeared to meet Louis' specifications, he crossed his arms and waited again.

"Oui," bobbing his head, Louis agreed this was a better choice. "Now where do I begin?"

"Watch what I do." Catching one of the lower branches d'Artagnan hefted himself up until he was standing upon it. Then quickly did the same to the other limbs above him. Deciding when he was high enough d'Artagnan began the climb back down until he did a neat somersault into the air landing upon his feet. Executing a proper bow to his audience, he grinned to the applause of the Musketeers surrounding them.

Exchanging a long look with his wife, Louis chuckled. "Seems easy enough, ma chere." Anne murmured something under her breath which he hadn't caught but it sounded something like _twas a long way down for a beginner_. Ignoring what he thought he'd heard, rubbing his hands together, Louis approached the tree sizing it up as one would a larger opponent.

Emulating the young Gascon's movements, Louis managed the first branch and then the second without any difficulties. Twas when he found himself getting higher that doubts began to form that he would be able to manage the climb downward. Pushing those negative thoughts aside, Louis figured that if he could manage a country then this should prove a simple task to accomplish. If by some chance he failed, he felt twould be an affront to his ego. When Louis reached about the height that the boy had stopped at, he glanced down. Twas a long way, as Anne had said, for a beginner. Waving down at d'Artagnan and his wife, he shouted, " _Shame that my old fox wasn't here to witness this feat!_ "

In the meantime, Aramis had been saying silent prayers for His Majesty to be able to plant his feet back on terra firma without injuring himself in the process. He thought twas a good thing that the captain wasn't here. Fearing that Teville would have a heart attack just witnessing this, Aramis was glad his commander had stayed back in the Garrison. Same thing could have been said for the cardinal.

Cupping his hands, d'Artagnan yelled back. " _We shall tell Captain Treville all about your victory! How about coming back down now?_ "

Pursing his lips together, Louis ran his hands up and down the sides of his pants. Twas then he noted the torn skin upon his palms. It shouldn't have come to any surprise that there had been as he wasn't used to this type of activity. Mentally chastising himself, Louis realized twas why Anne had gloves covering her delicate hands. So Louis began his descent or should he say that he _attempted to_. Missing a few of the limbs, for a few scary seconds he was dangling in the air. When his feet finally found purchase once more, Louis paused taking in several deep breaths. God bless the Gascon as the youth kept calling out encouraging words to him.

Beginning again, Louis carefully lowered himself upon another branch but missed the next. One of the limbs he reached out for was weakened so that he was left clutching at air when it broke off falling to the ground. Hearing d'Artagnan swearing, Louis grimaced. Hoping that it hadn't hit the boy, he continued. By the time his feet were firmly planted back upon solid ground, there were quite a few tree limbs scattered about. Also it appeared that those same branches must have bounced off several Musketeer heads, judging by the way some of Louis' men were clutching their own. About to apologize to them he hesitated when feeling delicate fingers removing broken twigs and leaves from his hair. "Merci, Anne. I must resemble a wood sprite, eh?" Earning a round of laughter from the soldiers, that weren't tending to their heads, Louis smiled brightly.

D'Artagnan's face must have been a picture, because Louis felt the need to grab him by the shoulders to give him a gentle shake. "I honestly was worried you would be hurt. Especially when you missed a couple."

"I'm tougher than I look, young man." As Louis stared at the tree again, and then back at his wife, he wasn't sure she should attempt the climb but didn't know how to tell her without Anne becoming upset with him. A sharp tap to the back of his head had Louis swinging around to see where it had come from. Encountering the petulant look she was giving him, he'd found the culprit. "Anne..."

She didn't let Louis finish, as Anne already knew what was in her husband's mind. "Remember, I can do anything you can." A devilish imp got into her when she added, "And better at that." A swift glance at d'Artagnan told its own story there, as he already knew her secret.

Fidgiting beside his brother, Porthos frowned. He didn't like the idea of the queen trying to outdo the king. Leaning in close to Aramis, he fiercely whispered, "Ain't anyone gonna talk 'er out of doin' this?"

Throwing up his hands, Aramis snapped back. " _Go on then! Let's see you convince her of her folly!_ "

Grumbling, Porthos held his tongue.

"The best any of us could do is to surround the tree and catch her when she falls. Just as we did for the king," ground out Aramis. Signaling to the other Musketeers he told them what he wanted of them. So when the young royal began her climb the men had formed a protective circle under her. If Aramis had thought his brothers-in-arms were stunned that a woman, let alone a queen, was going up a tree... what she was wearing had stolen their voices completely. Upon the removal of her skirt, his mouth fell open in shock. When Her Majesty handed it off to d'Artagnan, the pup of course was laughing, Aramis realized that the boy had known all along what to expect.

After that, Queen Anne made quite a production out of it being nearly as agile as d'Artagnan had been. A rapid descent, without a mishap by the way, had everyone applauding her ability especially Porthos. Observing the king standing before his wife speechless was nearly worth all the trouble this had caused. Sidling over to some of the men, Porthos held out his hand. Several coins dropped into his palm. He wasn't about to let something like this go by without placing a wager.

"D'Artagnan," crooking a finger at the Gascon youth, Louis waited until the lad joined him, "Anne confided in you didn't she?"

"Twas to be a surprise for you," admitted d'Artagnan.

"Indeed." Laughing, Louis threw his arms across each of their shoulders bringing them in close together. "We put on quite a show didn't we?" Dropping his arms, he held out his right hand palm down repeating the Musketeer motto Louis had said the previous day. " _All for one..._

Pleased that none of them had broken any bones, both Anne and d'Artagnan followed suit. " _And one for all!_ " Other voices blended in with their own until the woods practically vibrated with life.

++++

_Back at the Louvre, Athos' room_

His door was not quite closed which enabled him to hear several voices chattering away. What Athos had gleaned made him sit up in bed so fast that he had gritted his teeth against the sudden pain flaring above his hip. Rubbing a finger across his forehead, Athos was disturbed. He must have heard wrongly. There was no way in the world that Treville or the cardinal would have let the young royals do what Athos thought he had heard. _Pfft!_ Climbing trees... what nonsense! The staff must be daft. That was all it was. Someone must be nipping at the brandy and spreading incredible tales. Still, if there was even a grain of truth there Athos would discover the why of it.

++++

_Notes:_

_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Parrain_ \- godfather  
_Cut-purse_ \- cut-throat

I haven't a clue whether or not pants under a removable skirt could have been made in the 17th century but there you go I wrote it in because it fit and because I could.

 _Quote: "Good friends don't let you do stupid things alone."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rather a short chapter but I wanted to get this up. Another lighthearted chapter until the end. I'm just having too much fun with Charlotte and Athos. LOL!
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Garrison Courtyard_

Seeing his men riding back in, Treville was the first one over to Aramis as the Musketeer dismounted. Waiting for one of the stable lads to take the marksman's horse, he then asked the question burning upon the tip of his tongue. "Since I've not heard that Their Majestys needed medical treatment I gather all went well?"

"Oui," smiling, Aramis' eyes lit up with mirth, "and you'd be surprised at how the queen surpassed her husband." Observing the captain's reaction to that, Aramis chuckled. "We have quite a pair of monkeys upon our hands in d'Artagnan and Her Majesty."

"Tis to be hoped that there won't be a repeat performance, Aramis." Lips curling up at the ends, Treville added, "At least by Their Majestys." Walking beside the soldier, he had another question. "Do I assume that they all headed back to the palace straight away?"

"Except for d'Artagnan. He came back with us." Pointing to where the young Gascon stood talking to a few of the older men, Aramis waved the boy over.

"You needed me, Aramis?" D'Artagnan gave his parrain a quick glance and since the older man didn't say anything to him, he felt a bit of relief. It hadn't hit him until Louis began his climb that Athos didn't know anything about this and probably would have a fit when he eventually found out.

"Ah, pup, I was just telling the captain how our queen took to the trees like a natural." Clapping the youngster upon the shoulder, Aramis laughed.

"She had confided in me that it had been a pastime of her own when a child in Spain." Giving the men a sheepish grin, d'Artagnan shrugged. "I promised to keep her secret from the king."

Twisting one end of his mustache, Treville's lips pursed. "I'm sorry I missed that exhibition but still I don't ever want it to happened again. I still have to send word to Cardinal Richelieu that they both escaped injury."

"Has anyone bothered to inform Athos?" Shifting from one foot to the other, d'Artagnan wasn't sure he even wanted to know but then he had gone and asked anyway.

"I'm sure with the way tongues wag over at the palais Athos would get whiff of it." Folding his arms, Treville silently berated himself for not telling his lieutenant to begin with. He could only imagine how the younger man was going to take it. Especially with Athos being laid up the way he was.

"Sir, speaking of Athos, when do you believe he should be able to go back to his own apartments?" Aramis knew his brother would be chomping at the bit to get out of there. Since the man couldn't even get along with a single maid, it would be prudent for his friend to go home.

"Afraid Athos would try and sneak out by himself?" Amused, Treville's eyes caught his filleul's. The boy apparently knew about his mentor and the maid.

"Actually," drawled Aramis, "I'm afraid he may yet do bodily harm to that pretty maid Athos is currently at war with."

"Perhaps she'll attend him next waving a white flag of truce." Noting his suggestion amused the marksman a great deal, d'Artagnan wondered what Aramis knew that he didn't.

"That one would never surrender. I'm as sure of it as I know my own name." Grinning, Aramis playfully ruffled the lad's hair.

As d'Artagnan tried to move out of his friend's reach, he backed into what felt like a solid brick wall.

"'Ere now, whelp." His gruff voice eventually gave way to hearty laughter, upon noting the kid's mussed up hair. "Aramis at ya again, d'Art?"

Huffing out his annoyance, d'Artagnan wished there was someway to get back at Aramis without it coming back at him tenfold. Trouble was with the inseparables that when you did something to one of them you actually did it to all three. So in turn one would be wise not to entertain any ideas of getting even in the first place.

"I see those wheels turning in your head, pup," teased Aramis. "Whatever you're thinking, d'Artagnan, I suggest you don't do it."

" _Hmmpf!_ " Grunting his displeasure, d'Artagnan rolled his eyes instead. Life was safer that way.

"'Ey! Anyone told Athos about all this?" Catching d'Artagnan shaking his head, Porthos grimaced. "He's gonna be fit ta be tied."

"That's the general concensus, Porthos." Realizing that he should be sending word to the cardinal soon, Treville nodded his head at his men and was about to depart but snagged his filleul's arm before doing so. "D'Artagnan, I want you to go back to the Palais-Cardinal and talk with the physician who took over tending Athos. Find out from him when my lieutenant could go back to his own apartments."

"Or perhaps the infirmary considering how well Athos takes care of himself when left to his own devices." Sighing, d'Artagnan ruefully shook his head understanding how stubborn his mentor was.

"Kid already knows 'ow Athos thinks." Chuckling, Porthos thought it a good thing in how the pup catches on fast. Especially where his taciturn brother was concerned.

"Oh, d'Artagnan," leaning in close, Aramis whispered in the boy's ear, "make sure to duck if Charlotte's throwing anything in Athos' direction."

Going back to the stable for Zad, d'Artagnan began visualizing a battle for the ages between the pretty maid and his mentor. Somehow he didn't think, if it happened, that Athos would come out the victor.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

The closer he got to his mentor's room, the more he could hear the loud bellows coming from it. Wincing as the sound actually hurt his ears, d'Artagnan cautiously entered. Upon noting Athos' red face, he thought it more prudent to turn around and go back the way he came. Unfortunately the older man saw him and beckoned d'Artagnan with a crook of his finger.

"Who upset you this time, Athos?" questioned d'Artagnan, with a rise of one brow. Holding up a hand, he shook his head. "And don't tell me twas Charlotte again."

" _Nom de Dieu!_ That she-devil has caused me enough headaches to last a lifetime," snapped Athos. "But non, this time it was that hellish physician. A know-it-all who deemed, for my health mind you, that I should stay here at least a week to recover." Thumping his fist upon the mattress, his colored worsened.

Athos appeared near to bursting a blood vessel. So d'Artagnan sat upon the edge of his mentor's bed and placed his hand atop Athos' clenched fist. He prayed that it would calm the other man down. "Peace, mon ami. Calm yourself."

"You have been around Aramis too long." Shaking a warning finger at the boy, Athos frowned deeply. "I have already warned you about that before," he scowled. "Or are you intending to follow in his footsteps?"

"I've enough upon my plate learning to be an excellent Musketeer." Musing over the idea of learning Aramis' medical knowledge, d'Artagnan thought it held much merit. "Perhaps once I'm comfortable in my own skills I shall ask him to teach me." Shrugging, he grinned. "Couldn't hurt to have another one of us know how to treat wounds and the such."

Athos could not find fault in that thinking, so he did not say anything further. Instead, he was mighty curious about the rumors that were running rampant in the palais here. "From the few words I have garnered here and there from some of the staff it sounded like both the king and queen went climbing trees." Stabbing the pup with a look that did not bode well, Athos tapped the child's nose. "Do correct me if they were wrong."

Turning his guilty face away from Athos, d'Artagnan then felt a gentle hand turning it right back. "Ummmm, bien you see there really wasn't anyway to make the king change his mind. Even Captain Treville and the cardinal hadn't had any luck."

Nearly bolting out of the bed, Athos' face suffused with color once more. If he had known it, his blue eyes had turned quite stormy. He knew his turbulent emotions showed upon his face, when his protégé suddenly jump off the bed as if it had caught fire. "Did His Majesty injure himself?"

Exhaling a long breath, d'Artagnan sat back down again. "Non, though he did give me a few moments there. Actually, Queen Anne bested him."

Covering his face with both hands, Athos groaned into them. "The queen? What in God's name possessed her?"

"She had already informed me that it was a favorite pastime of hers when quite young." Remembering the look upon Louis' face as he had watched his wife, d'Artagnan thought he would never forget it. "I wasn't supposed to tell a soul. Now, of course, everyone knows."

"If I had been there..." He cut himself off abruptly, biting his lip. "Ah, what was the use. It would not have mattered anyway I am sure if neither Treville nor Richelieu could put a stop to it."

"I feel tis safe enough to say that Their Majestys have had their fill of excitement... at least for this week." Noting that his words didn't do a thing in the slightest to comfort Athos, d'Artagnan cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Since you have informed me what the physician told you its saved me the trouble of finding out as the captain wanted to know."

" _Deuce it all!_ " Throwing the covers off, Athos attempted to get out of bed but the pup gently pushed him back down.

"You will not strain yourself so soon after being hurt!" snapped d'Artagnan. "Do you want Captain Treville or King Louis to be mad at me for letting you do this foolishness?"

" _Foolishness_ is it?" Jabbing a finger in the lad's chest, Athos leaned forward. "Was it not _foolish_ to let the young royals climb trees?"

" _Merde!_ " Frustrated with his mentor's stubborness d'Artagnan stood back up, his back rigid with tension. "Clearly you're not willing to let that go." Mumbling under his breath, he was thinking that none of that had been his fault in the first place. Feeling it best to leave Athos smoldering, d'Artagnan tried to think up a good enough reason to depart that wouldn't make him appear a coward. His worry was taken out of his hands, upon Charlotte's appearance. Impeccable timing that, as it gave him the excuse he needed to slip away.

Seeing pure red, in the form of the woman who stood before him, Athos wondered what _she_ wanted of him this time.

After having asked several of the other staff if they'd take over for her, Charlotte was dismayed to find that none of them wanted to deal with this surly Musketeer. So she was stuck suffering in his company. Making the best of a bad situation Charlotte graced the soldier with an insincere smile, while silently telling herself that she could get through this without dire consequences to her peace of mind. "I've come to change your bed linen." With a quick look at the boy who appeared anxious to leave, Charlotte beckoned him to her side. Once more, she let her gaze fall upon the wounded man. "I understood from the docteur that twas all right for you to get up for a short period of time that twould take me to do this."

" _NON!_ " His negative response burst out of Athos, before he could even think of saying anything else.

Folding her arms, Charlotte hotly glared at the _enemy_. It had a name. One she wouldn't dare to repeat in polite company and one that she'd promised herself to never utter around _him_. Exchanging an uncomfortable look with the Gascon youth, Charlotte's foot began to impatiently tap upon the tiled floor. "Would you care to explain yourself?"

" _Non_ is a complete sentence," huffed Athos. "It does not require justification or explanation."

Throwing her hands in the air, Charlotte turned around to face the lad. " _He's impossible!_ Athos must be a trial to poor Captain Treville!" Stomping out of the room she slammed the door behind her hard enough to shake a pitcher of water off of a table.

The loud crash of the pitcher startled both men.

"I shall complain to Cardinal Richelieu about the people he hires." Fuming, Athos glared at the closed door. "I think some of them lack common courtesy."

D'Artagnan actually found himself sorry for the door, thinking that any minute now it would combust, reducing to nothing but ashes and cinders. "And that is my cue to head back to the Garrison." Afraid to express any type of amusement at the display he'd been treated to, d'Artagnan turned upon his heels. Throwing over his shoulder he said, "I shall inform the captain about the docteur's concern over you."

"Lie if you have to, pup," growled Athos. Passing a hand over his brow, he found himself sorry for taking his foul temper out upon the boy. "Apologies, d'Artagnan."

"I haven't taken offense, Athos." Dark eyes gleaming with mischief, d'Artagnan chuckled. "In fact I've found it quite a stimulating visit." When his gentle teasing didn't go over quite so well with his mentor, his feet hastened to the door. "Au revoir, mon frere."

Finding himself struggling with the bed sheets again, making a tangled mess, Athos felt frustration building up inside him over his situation. Things really were in a muddle. Hoping against hope that Aramis would visit with him again soon, Athos prayed his friend would think of another way to get him out of this guilded prison.

++++

_Chatelet_

It wasn't a surprise to Deville that treatment was meted out more harshly, within the confines of the Chatelet. Lips twisting into something of a sinister nature, he thought of all the ways to make d'Artagnan suffer. Ever since his kidnapping of that brat, his streak of misfortune had continued. Still, he had contacts outside of this jail that Deville still could make use of. He'd make sure his escape would go off without a hitch. Then that would-be Musketeer better watch his own back.

++++

_Notes:_

_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Nom de Dieu_ \- God damn it

 _Quote: "No is a complete sentence. It does not require justification or explanation."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man's death will be depicted in this chapter but nothing too graphic.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_A month later_

_Early afternoon – streets of Paris_

Recovered enough from his injury, Athos had been given a mission from Treville. Attention upon the suspect he had been pursuing, he never noted the individual directly in front of him. A collision was inevitable so when it happened he was startled but his reflexes still worked. Reaching out Athos managed to prevent the woman from a hurtful fall. Unfortunately her packages met the fate she would have had, as they scattered all over the cobblestone street.

When she had collected herself, righting the flowery chapeau that had sat jauntily upon her head, Charlotte glared at the man responsible for ruining her day. “ _YOU!_ ”

Athos first heard her voice, before actually looking at whom he had rescued. Grimacing, he began to wonder why he had bothered catching her in the first place. His uncharitable thoughts would have no doubt shocked Aramis. The marksman held the utmost respect for women of any age and station in life. However Athos was not his friend, and therefore, if Charlotte decided to box his ears he would not stand idly by and let her do so.

“ _Mon Dieu!_ What have I ever done to have you plague me so, Monsieur Musketeer!”

“Believe me, Mademoiselle,” as he gave voice to his thoughts, the words tasted bitter, “if I had noticed you first I would have crossed to the other side of the street.” Looking about him, Athos realized the man he had been following was long gone now. Which meant that he would be facing an irate Treville later trying to explain how this had happened. Bien, Athos could either cry over spilled milk or lend his help. So crouching down, he retrieved all Charlotte’s purchases which appeared to have surprised the woman somewhat. “I do not know how you managed to walk this far carrying all of these without having a mishap before.”

Knowing the soldier had a valid point, Charlotte instead said, “I wasn’t going far as I have a carriage waiting right over there.”

Following the direction of her gaze, Athos noted the insignia covering one side of the carriage doors. “Ah, I see then. You have been shopping for Cardinal Richelieu.”

“For the palais, oui.” Leading the way, Charlotte quickly walked over to where the carriage awaited. The driver held the door open for Athos to place the packages inside. When that was done, she didn’t bother thanking him as it had been his fault in the first place. Ignoring the hand the Musketeer held out, to help Charlotte into the carriage, she managed by herself. Sticking her head out the window, Charlotte frowned. “Next time have your itinerary for the day sent to me.”

Arching a brow, Athos did not know what to make of her words. “And why should I do such a thing?”

“So I could be where _you_ are not.” Telling the driver to proceed Charlotte sat back in her seat fuming over that man.

Athos did not know whether he felt insulted or vaguely amused. If anything, the more he thought upon it, their meetings up to this point had never been dull. However, deuce it all! His encounter with Charlotte was to blame for losing sight of his assignment. Or rather, Athos admitted to himself, it may have been his own fault. Good thing none of his friends were around or he would have been treated to their good natured teasing. Guess there was nothing for it now but to head back to the Garrison and report back.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

D'Artagnan was sitting at one of the benches, listening to Aramis expound upon all the man's virtues. The marksman always seemed to do this whenever he had a captive audience of recruits undergoing target shooting practice. So when Athos sat down beside him, shoulders touching, d'Artagnan offered his mentor a bright, shiny red apple.

"Is that an attempt at a bribe, pup?" Taking the fruit from the young Gascon, Athos bit into its juicy sweetness. Twas then his attention was caught by some of Aramis' words drifting over to him. "D'Artagnan, what is going on over there?"

"It started with Tomas missing a target and it snowballed from there." With a casual shrug of one shoulder, d'Artagnan continued munching his own apple. "Looks like he's finished now or else the men lost interest." Observing the recruits going back to their positions, d'Artagnan noted Aramis coming toward them.

Aramis sauntered away from the group he'd been speaking with. Perching atop the bench he gazed at the empty bowl of fruit. He'd have to ask Serge to fill it up again. Removing his weapons belt, Aramis then turned his face up toward the sun. With a pleasant sigh, he spoke to his brothers. ""You know, mes amis, when I pass away I'd like them to write the words _humble_ upon my statue." Hearing two amused snorts, Aramis glanced over his shoulder at them.

"What makes you believe you would deserve a statue, Aramis?" Exchanging smirks with his protégé, Athos grinned.

"Why would I not?" countered Aramis. "One can't fault perfection."

Twas at this point Athos had to slap the child's back, when d'Artagnan nearly choked upon a piece of apple.

Somewhat recovered, d'Artagnan thanked his mentor then stared at Aramis curiously. "Perhaps my ears deceived me. But didn't you say to put _humble_ upon that statue you speak so highly of?"

Winking at the lad, Aramis left that question unanswered. "Ah, here comes Porthos resembling a thundercloud." When the larger man came over, Aramis reached out to pat his friend upon the chest. "Should we all duck for cover?"

"Dupré's an ass!" growled Porthos.

"I have news for you," drawled Aramis, "assholes are around every corner. Nothing new there, mon frere."

"Non." Shaking his head, Porthos glared in the direction of where Dupré had gone off to. "The world isn't full of assholes, Mis. They're just strategically placed so that you'll meet one everyday."

Clapping his hands, Aramis threw back his head and gayly laughed. "Well said."

Slowly getting back to his feet, Athos had delayed seeing the captain as long as he could. "I have yet to report to Treville." Grabbing his chapeau, which he had set beside him, Athos left his brothers.

Focusing upon the pair before him, d'Artagnan wondered what made them unique. They were as different as night and day yet they worked together so efficiently along with Athos of course. Voicing his thoughts out loud to the duo, d'Artagnan was taken aback at their response.

Poking Porthos in the ribs, Aramis chuckled. "We go together like _drunk and disorderly_ "

"Okaaay, which one of you is which then?" The way Porthos glared at Aramis nearly made d'Artagnan regret his question.

"Take your pick, d'Artagnan." Dancing out of the way when Porthos swatted at his head, Aramis smiled broadly.

"Fun as this is I have stable duty." Gaining his feet, d'Artagnan gave his friends a mocking salute before departing.

"Wait a sec, whelp." Puzzled, Porthos stared into the kid's dark eyes. "How'd ya end up with that?"

Biting the inside of his cheek, d'Artagnan realized that he wouldn't get away without telling Porthos the truth. "Er... I may have said something I shouldn't have to Étienne."

Knowing that Étienne was in charge of the armory, both Porthos and Aramis still didn't understand why the youngster had to muck out the stables.

"I may have called him a name that I shouldn't have," admitted d'Artagnan, his face suffused with color.

"Do we get to know what it was? I mean it must have been worthy enough since you're being punished." Aramis' lips pursed. Being older than a lot of the soldiers here, Étienne wasn't what you called approachable.

"He cast a slur upon my parentage and in turn I said mange de la merde, batard." Not a bit sorry for his words spoken in anger to a seasoned Musketeer, d'Artagnan waited to be scolded by his two friends.

"I probably would have said much worse, lad." Stroking his mustache Aramis glanced sideways at Porthos.

"I'd of smacked his skull against the nearest wall, d'Art." Cracking his knuckles, Porthos wondered if he could catch Étienne alone sometime and teach him some manners.

When Étienne had gone running to the captain, d'Artagnan had been treated to a tongue lashing from the officer. Hence the punishment in the stable. However after talking with Porthos and Aramis he felt much better about it. "Since your sympathies lie with me I don't s'pose either one of you would like to help me?" At the faces his brothers made, d'Artagnan snorted. "Didn't think so."

"But we'll walk ya as far as the stables, kid." Ruffling the pup's hair, Porthos laughed.

"That's what friends are for, lad." Slapping the youth's back, Aramis joined in Porthos' amusement.

++++

_Later in the day - Chatelet_

A month and Deville still couldn't get out of the Chatelet. The guards here proved to be more of a greedy bunch, wanting more money than he had to make his escape possible. Still, there were other ways to get out of this prison. Deville would just have to work all the more harder for it. In fact he already had an idea how to do it. After all, he was extremely motivated. Wanting nothing more than to destroy that Gascon brat for landing him in here. 

Slipping the knife he had managed to pilfer from a plate of what passed for as food he'd been given earlier, Deville hid it underneath the dirty layers of his cot. When it was time for the next guard to check upon him, he was ready for the man. Holding out several coins in his palm, Deville tossed them up and down in front of the guard's face. He noted the eager look in the other man's eyes. "There's plenty more where that came from if you're interested."

Robert had never been known to have much in the brain department, or so the other guards he worked with kept telling him. The shiny coins in the prisoner's hands beckoned him to open the cell door... which he did. Not thinking much of it because Robert was the one that was armed and not this jailbird. If only he had used what little brains he did possess because It would be the last bad decision Robert ever made.

It wasn't until much later, when another guard went in search of Robert, that the man's body was discovered. His throat had been sliced open, a bloody mess, and in the open palm of one hand laid a bright, shiny coin.

++++

_Early eve - The Bonacieux’s_

Having spent his time at The Wren with the inseparables d'Artagnan, who had lost some money to Porthos at cards, decided to head home. Silently berating himself for taking on someone that he knew sometimes played fast and loose at the game, d'Artagnan entered the house.

Having heard not a sound so far, d'Artagnan was surprised. He'd expected the older couple would still be up. Unless the hour was much later than he'd first thought. Deciding to go to his room, without looking for them, d'Artagnan had one foot upon the step and paused. A muffled sound reached his ears but feeling tired he ignored it. Taking another few steps up, he heard it again. This time d'Artagnan backed down the steps and went in search of the noise. Taking the kitchen first, noting twas empty, he looked into another room. Again nothing. Twas when d'Artagnan entered the sewing room that his heart dropped to the soles of his feet.

Mouths gagged, Constance and Jacques were tightly bound to the chairs they sat upon. Fully into the room now twas then that d'Artagnan noted their wide, frightened eyes looking toward the other side of the room. Too late to get out of here now and go for help, he thought. Twas a trap and one d'Artagnan had walked straight into.

"Did you think I would have forgotten you so soon, d'Artagnan?"

" _Deville_ ," hissed d'Artagnan. "Who did you kill to get out of the Chatelet?"

Raising the simple utensil in the air, the knife was still covered with blood of the dead guard. Cackling evilly, Deville's eyes grew chilly. Of course now he was better armed, having stolen some weapons from a drunken lout upon his way here. Aiming his pistol at the boy, he snarled, "You and I have unfinished business to tend."

"What? Inside this house?" D'Artagnan didn't want a fight to break out where either of his friend's lives would be endangered.

"We'll take this outside if it makes you feel better." Following behind the kid, Deville snickered. "That'll make getting away easier anyway once I've finally disposed of you."

"Bold words," retorted d'Artagnan angrily.

"Let's see how _bold_ they prove to be." Closing the door behind him, Deville's eyes scoured the area. Not a soul about. Just the way he liked it. "Now, brat, tis just you and me again."

++++

_Notes:_

Now I looked this up under multiple translation sites so I hope it's correct or close to it. _Merde_ does mean _shit_ and _batard_ is _bastard_ but this is what the translation sites came up with for what I had d'Art saying. _Mange de la merde, batard_ \- which basically means: eat shit, bastard.

 _Quote: "When I pass away I'd like them to write the words humble on my statue."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "No, the world is not full of assholes. They're just strategically placed so that you will meet one everyday."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "We go together like drunk and disorderly."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom
> 
> ++++

_Same eve and same danger facing our young Gascon_

_Outside the Bonacieux's residence_

Facing off against the cut-purse, d'Artagnan and Deville circled one another. Waiting to see if the voleur would make the first move, he became momentarily distracted by something moving in the shadows off to the side. The _shadow_ turned out to be a black cat which ended up getting between him and his opponent.

Scowling at the feline creature, until the cat moved out of the away, d'Artagnan then looked at Deville. The older man's smirk was something that he wished he could wipe off the batard's face. Deciding enough time had elapsed, d'Artagnan lunged forward. His blade striking hard and fast against Deville's flesh. " _First blood!_ " Proudly lifting his chin up, he stared the criminal in the face. Then d'Artagnan allowed his eyes to linger upon the wound he had dealt the canaille. Blood seeped out of the cut upon Deville's left side but he didn't believe it would hamper the cut-purse's ability.

" _And last of mine, boy!_ " Sneering at the cocky youth, Deville swore to himself that he'd end the Gascon's life this eve. Back and forth they went. His own steps felt repetitive especially when he wasn't gaining any ground against d'Artagnan. Lunge... thrust... parry... it seemed all that they were both doing with neither of them gaining the upperhand yet. Frustrated, Deville growled low, deep in his throat. "I thought you'd put on a better show than this, kid?" Hoping his words would spur the youngster into making a mistake, he grinned wickedly.

Actually d'Artagnan was surprised the sounds of their duel hadn't brought out curious onlookers. Apparently the Bonacieux's neighbors turned in early and slept like the dead. He'd been trying to stall for time, in the vain hope that someone would hear them and get help. Guess he would just have to handle this entirely upon his own. Twould be messy, but d'Artagnan guessed Jacques could always get the blood washed away from in front of their home once he dispatched this scum.

Younger than Deville, and in better shape, d'Artagnan pressed his advantage. He had more speed, along with agility, than the cut-purse. Something of which the other man perhaps had forgotten during the voleur's short stay within the Chatelet. Using some fancy footwork and of course the lessons taught him by many d'Artagnan had Deville upon the ground weaponless, having knocked the sword away with a hard blow to his antagonist's wrist. " _Too easy!_ " spat d'Artagnan. Backing away, his foot shoved Deville's weapon toward the man. "Let's finish this properly... with my sword in your black heart."

Deville realized he'd underestimated the boy yet again. Somewhat surprised that the kid hadn't taken advantage of the opportunity to kill him, he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Taking up his sword again, Deville took a wild strike at the youngster. This time he managed a slight cut to the lad's cheek. Feeling renewed, Deville began to circle around the brat again. Twas then that he noted the sly look crossing the Gascon's face. He remembered that look from before. It had left him uneasy then as it did now.

"That the best you've got?" Egging Deville on, d'Artagnan grinned. " _Come on, old man!_ " Taunting the cut-purse, he would lunge forward only to quickly pull back and repeat the same maneuver several times over to throw the canaille off balance. When the voleur roared in rage and came after him, d'Artagnan slid down to the ground to swipe his sword at Deville's legs. Bringing his foe back down to the ground for the second time, he stood over him barely out of breath. "I've decided not to kill you. That's best left up to our king."

Thinking Deville in too much pain from twin wounds to the man's legs, d'Artagnan turned his back upon him to go find something to tie the cut-purse up with. Twas only the hissing of that darned black cat that made d'Artagnan twist around with his blade instinctively at the ready. His reflexes held him in good stead, as Deville had somehow gotten to his feet and was about to plunge a poignard in d'Artagnan's back. Twas an inevitable outcome, when Deville couldn't stop his momentum and literally ended up skewered upon d'Artagnan's sword. Withdrawing his blade, he wiped the blood off upon the dead voleur's vest. Glancing over at the cat, whose green eyes appeared to glow eerily back at him, d'Artagnan saluted the animal with his rapier. "If ever we meet again... I owe you one."

As if the creature had understood it ran directly over to him curling about d'Artagnan's legs, meowing in all its glory. Bending down he lifted it up into his arms. Running a finger underneath the cat's chin, it began purring contently. "Black as spades you are, Mademoiselle Chatte." Having now discovered the animal's gender, d'Artagnan perched her upon one shoulder. Heading inside the house he went back into the sewing room to release his friends.

" _Mon Dieu!_ " cried together the worried couple. Noting blood upon the youth's face, their eyes did a quick inspection of d'Artagnan's person. Pleased to see that the boy was relatively unharmed, they then began peppering him with questions.

Holding up a hand for them to cease, d'Artagnan's gaze fell upon Jacques. "Would you mind going over to Athos' apartments and telling him he's needed here?"

"Of course, lad." Making haste, Jacques ran out of the house barely remembering to grab a coat against the eve's chill. The only thing that halted him in his tracks was the corpse nearly upon his doorstep. Closing his eyes Jacques collected his wits, remembering his duty.

Back inside the house, d'Artagnan was left with Constance who was staring at the dark fur still purring upon his shoulder.

"Met a new friend have you?" Eyeing the green-eyed cat, Constance slowly smiled. "A she or a he?"

"Definitely female." Once again cradling the cat in his arms, d'Artagnan ran his fingers gently over the animal's head. Shyly peeking at Constance, he said, "I'm calling her _Spades_."

"You haven't asked me if we allow pets, d'Artagnan." Arching a brow at him that would have done Athos proud, Constance folded her arms while observing the cat.

"Spades just saved my life." Humbly admitted, d'Artagnan's face grew serious. "May she stay?"

"Guess a cat's good to have around the house for catching any mice that might find their way inside." Holding up a finger, Constance added, "Mind you, I keep a clean home but one never knows what crawls in when that door opens."

"Could we find her some milk or water or perhaps something to eat?" Clutching Spades to his chest, d'Artagnan followed Constance into the kitchen.

"Demanding already is she?" Shaking her head, Constance rummaged around until coming up with a bowl of milk. "Give me a few minutes and I'll see what else I've got for her."

"My thanks." Putting Spades down d'Artagnan watched her lap up all the milk. "Poor thing must be starving."

"Not unlike some of the citizens living around us," muttered Constance closing a cupboard door.

"I shall make sure to purchase food for her so you won't go without." Kneeling down, d'Artagnan ran a hand down the silky fur.

"I know one thing," looking down upon her newest boarder, Constance frowned, "Spades could do with a good bath."

"Mmmmm," hummed d'Artagnan in acknowledgement. "Upon the morrow, I'll take her to one of my favorite spots where a brook with clean water flows and bathe her there myself."

"Make sure that you do." Tapping him on top of his head, Constance crooked a finger at him. "Now let me take care of that cut upon your face before it becomes infected."

Meekly doing her bidding, d'Artagnan stood up and followed her over to the sink. While Constance tended to his wound, they both heard footsteps coming toward the kitchen. As expected, a familiar voice drawled from behind them.

"Left to your own devices, pup, you would take on all the criminal element within Paris." Hanging his chapeau upon a wooden peg Athos ran fingers through his tangled hair. "Twas a good thing I had decided to stay up and read else Jacques would have found me entertaining him in my nightshirt."

Wincing, as Constance dabbed a cloth with alcohol upon his cheek, d'Artagnan's eyes fell upon his mentor's wry expression. "You've seen the body?"

"Hard to miss as I had to step over it to gain access to the house." Athos had already been in Jacques company long enough to gauge how the other man fared from his ordeal. Twas observing Constance, with their youngest, that had him reassess his previous opinions about the couple. Both of them had held up well against Deville's devious nature. Believing d'Artagnan to be living amongst others whose mettle had been proven, greatly relieved some of Athos' previous anxieties.

"Jacques helped me load Deville's carcass into a cart that we borrowed from a neighbor." Taking a good look at his protégé Athos was pleased the lad hadn't fought recklessly in the duel, judging that the Gascon wasn't badly hurt. "I shall proceed to the Garrison and deliver it to Treville."

" _Ouch!_ " Pulling away from Constance, d'Artagnan pouted. "That stung."

"And this," she lightly tapped his injured face, "didn't when it happened?"

Just as Constance snapped back at her young friend, sounds of hissing came from where Spades was eating. "Oh don't you go giving me any lip or you'll soon find yourself out upon your black tail." The hissing instantly ceased, much to Constance's amusement.

"Spades did that when I fought against Deville," added d'Artagnan with a cheeky grin.

Still amused, Constance placed the bottle of alcohol back into her medicine cabinet. "Doesn't like it much when she thinks you're being threatened eh, d'Artagnan?" A chuckle escaped her, while a thought crossed her mind. Deciding to share it Constance poked the boy's side. "Here I thought the only hearts you'd collect would be that of many a young lady. Figures with your background that you'd end up with a feminine friend of a different persuasion." Her quiet laughter blended in with the young Gascon's.

"Where did that cat come from?" Sneezing, Jacques reached for a handkerchief inside his pocket.

"Spades saved my life." D'Artagnan's eyes bounced from Athos and then to Jacques. Both men lifted brows. "When I badly wounded Deville I turned away to fetch something to tie him up with." Lightly touching the burning wound upon his cheek, he grimaced. "I didn't think he'd be able to even walk but I was gravely mistaken. Twas then Spades hissed out a warning and I turned around just in time or it would be my funeral you'd be planning."

Letting not a single bit of emotion show, save for a tick working near his right eye, Athos glanced over at the cat. " _Spades?_ "

"Black as its namesake was my first thought." Observing his mentor walk over to where the cat sat, d'Artagnan wondered what was going through the older man's mind.

"I used to have one when I was a child. Except mine was white as snow." Gazing down upon her, Athos smiled as Spades began licking her paws. "So you have adopted each other then?"

Going past the Musketeer, Constance remarked, "In a manner of speaking." Before turning in for the night, she snorted. "Make sure Spades doesn't take over the Garrison while your back's turned, Athos. She seems the type."

All three men stood there with mouths open and nothing coming out.

"They do say that women usually have the last word." Another loud sneeze, followed by a bout of coughing, and Jacques realized that sleep would allude him this eve. Knowing twas because of the cat's fur, he resigned himself to the inevitable. Hopefully d'Artagnan would be taking his pet with him to the Garrison, when not scheduled for missions. Exchanging a look between a sympathetic Athos and one oblivious Gascon, Jacques haplessly shrugged and followed in Constance's footsteps. "D'Artagnan lock up after Athos leaves, if you would."

"Certainly." Catching an odd look pass over his brother's features, d'Artagnan tilted his head to the side. "What?"

"You had better remember to take Spades with you and not leave her here for any length of time," urged Athos. "Because Jacques may not tell you but anyone could see that being around cats is not conducive to the man's health."

Realizing what his mentor referred to, d'Artagnan began wondering if perhaps his Oncle Armand would like another pet. Twould be something he'd have to look into later. For now Spades would bunk with him, after all he owed her that much.

++++

_Short time later - Garrison_

A pounding upon his door made Treville grumpier than ever. He thought that finally he'd be returning to his own home after a long, tiresome day. First King Louis needed his opinion upon the argument His Majesty was currently having with Comte Du Bellay. Both men were stubborn when it came to deciding anything of a import. Today wasn't any different.

Secondly upon his leave taking from the council chambers, Treville was waylaid by another member. Comte La Trémoïlle had decided to chew his ears off with complaints over certain monies being spent unwisely. Not having time for any of this, as Treville was a man of action not words, he had a curt exchange with the Comte and then fled the area as fast as he could.

Then if he hadn't been put through enough turmoil, Treville had to deal with the new recruits. None of which appeared to know the first thing about keeping their uniforms neat. He had to send the lot of them back with orders to have their uniforms freshly laundered. The lot of them smelled like they had been mucking out the stables for a week or more.

And now this untimely interruption. Shouting for the unwelcome visitor to enter, Treville drummed his fingers impatiently atop his desk. Upon noting twas his lieutenant, he didn't know whether to be vexed over this intrusion at so late an hour or concerned.

"Sorry, Sir, but there's been an incident over at the Bonacieux's."

"Have they been injured?" Then it hit Treville that perhaps his filleul was involved. "D'Artagnan?"

"Deville escaped from the Chatelet. Went to the Bonacieux's home tying up Constance and Jacques in the process." Biting his lip, Athos noted the captain's face pale. "Waiting for d'Artagnan to arrive he then fought the pup outside."

"What happened then?" Barely capable of getting his words out, Treville prayed for good news.

"D'Artagnan ended the cut-purse's life." Feeling quite smug over his protégé's accomplishment, Athos' blue eyes shone with pride. "Also the boy gained a new friend."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Treville stared at his lieutenant. "Are you going to hold me in suspense? _Talk man!_ "

Lips twitching, Athos dipped his head. "Be prepared, Captain. I do believe the Garrison is gaining a Mascot. The lad has dubbed her _Spades_."

"What is it this time?" Animals always trailed after that boy. D'Artagnan collected them like some people did trophies. That it took this long was what surprised Treville. Noting puzzlement cross the younger man's face, he grinned. "My filleul has a particular talent for strays."

"A cat and I do hope our young one's _talent_ in that area remains with animals only." Rubbing his chin, Athos sighed. "Anyway I have a cart in the courtyard with Deville's body inside."

"Make sure it gets delivered to the morgue and first thing upon the morrow I shall speak with d'Artagnan and apprise the king of what happened." Knowing that the cardinal also needed notified, Treville would send a missive for His Eminence to appear at the Louvre. This way he could kill two birds with one stone.

"As you wish." Tiredly, Athos made for the door. At this time of the eve, the book he had been trying to finish would have to wait another day.

++++

_Notes:_

_Cut-purse_ \- cut-throat  
_Voleur_ \- thief  
_Canaille_ \- scoundrel  
_Batard_ \- bastard  
_Poignard_ \- dagger  
_Chatte_ \- female cat (thanks to FierGascon for correcting me on this)  
_Filleul_ \- godson


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a surprise for the inseparables in this chapter.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, mid morn - Royal Palace, Throne room_

Tapping one finger upon the arm of his throne, King Louis listened intently to his old fox's account of d'Artagnan's escapade of last eve. "Treville, how is it that of late tis becoming a fashion now to escape from our jails? Answer me that, mmmmm."

Richelieu stood off to the left of the king. He too was beginning to wonder how twas possible the same man had so easily escaped both prisons.

Wincing, d'Artagnan who was standing beside the captain felt badly that Louis posed that question. He didn't think, because Deville had broken out of both the Bastille and the Chatelet, that twas cause to come down upon Captain Treville.

"I am currently investigating into that matter, Sire." Glancing at the boy, and getting an encouraging smile from the lad, Treville looked back at his young monarch. "If what I think happened is true we may have to look into replacing some or all of the guards at both jails."

"And what would that be, Captain?" Richelieu had an inkling where Treville was going with this and thought to help move things along.

Giving Richelieu a sharp look, Treville sighed. "I believe the guardsmen were bribed, Your Majesty." Spreading his arms out wide, he added, "Tis as simple as that."

Sitting up straighter, King Louis leaned forward toward the captain. "Tis not such a _simple_ thing when tis that easy for prisoners to get away with slipping coin to our guards," he snapped. "I suggest that when prisoners are first taken to either jail that they be thoroughly searched for any monies upon their persons from now on."

"That's... one... way." His words dragged out, not sure he should have voiced his opinion at all. Still, d'Artagnan said his piece. "However, even if that were the case and prisoner's pockets were empty what would keep them from promising good coin to the guards if they'd release them?"

"You make an excellent point, d'Artagnan." Smiling at his young friend, King Louis glanced over at Treville quizzically. "We shall simply have to hire men of decent caliber."

"Upon what we pay them," muttered Treville, low enough for only his filleul to make out. He was about to tell His Majesty that he needed to go tend to the matter, when a dark blur darted past him.

Smothering an oath, d'Artagnan began chasing the black blur. He just managed to catch the cat before it jumped upon Louis' lap. Clutching Spades in his arms his face suffused with color, while all eyes turned upon him and his pet.

"Friend of yours, d'Artagnan?" Chuckling, King Louis' fascinated gaze rested upon the wriggling creature.

"She sort of helped me out in defeating Deville." Running a finger underneath Spades' chin, d'Artagnan couldn't help the chuff of laughter escaping him. Oh, and before he forgot, this was the perfect opportunity he needed. Drawing closer to Cardinal Richelieu, d'Artagnan's resolve to be parted from Spades began to falter.

"If you're going to ask me if I'd like another cat," smiling, Richelieu gently removed the animal from the lad's arms, "sorry to say but I have more than enough felines roaming around my palais as is. It's gotten gotten to the point where I'm forgetting what name goes to which of my pets." Handing the bundle of fur back over to the youngster Richelieu almost wished he could change his mind, after all twas an attractive beast.

"Have you picked a name out yet?" If the animal were human, King Louis would have said it was bored. The cat actually yawned in their presence. Still, he was drawn in by the creature's green-eyed gaze.

"May I properly introduce all of you to Mademoiselle Spades." When the cat began meowing loudly, d'Artagnan and the others laughed.

"I believe she likes her moniker, lad," mused Richelieu.

"Enchanté, Mademoiselle." Amused, King Louis clapped his hands in delight. "I shall expect you to visit myself and Anne upon a regular basis."

Without it being voiced, d'Artagnan realized Louis meant that anytime he came to the palace Spades better accompany him. "I'm sure she's pleased by your invitation, Your Majesty."

"Anne will love her, I'm sure." A wicked grin spread across King Louis' features, just then. "I know someone who wouldn't though."

Twas a good thing that Treville had a good idea where the king's mind dwelled. "I forbid you entertaining Spades during one of your council meetings, Sire."

Pouting, King Louis glared at the older man. "Why do you constantly insist upon spoiling any of my fun? I mean really, Treville. You keep doing this."

"Because," stepping in, Richelieu's temper grew short, "twould not be amusing for Comte La Trémoïlle whom you know very well can't stand most animals because of their fur."

"Sometimes I wonder why I have a captain and a cardinal around to advise me," grumbled King Louis. "I should be able to do at least a few things I want to."

"Sire, if memory serves," Spades, who was now upon d'Artagnan's right shoulder, began playing with his hair earning an amused snort from Louis, "twas not so long ago that you got away with climbing a tree."

"Just so." Smiling at the memory, King Louis shrugged. "Still, twould have been amusing to observe La Trémoïlle's reaction. Watching the man start sneezing and scratching at his skin would be one way to rid myself of that pest."

"Jacques sneezed as soon as he was in Spade's presence." With one hand, d'Artagnan plucked Spades from her resting place. "I certainly don't want him to be uncomfortable in his own home so I'm afraid I'll have to keep her at the Garrison unless I'm on an assignment."

"You could let her stay with us here at the palace, d'Artagnan." Rubbing his hands together, King Louis thought it an excellent solution to the boy's problem."

"Er, you're not planning upon having Spades sit in during any of your council meetings now are you?" Prior to this, d'Artagnan never would have had cause to be suspicious of his friend. Except now there had been just a glint of mischief in Louis' eyes that had him concerned.

"Non." Getting up, King Louis stepped down from the dais. Gently petting Spades head, his lips curled upward. "There are many other ways to skin a cat." When the animal took exception to his words, beginning to hiss, he pulled back his hand just in case. "Don't worry, Spades, I have someone else in mind... not you." Noting neither his captain nor His Eminence found his words amusing, King Louis waved them away in dismissal except for the youngster and his pet. Having plenty of time to kill until his next appointment, he wanted to enjoy getting to know this particular feline.

++++

_Later, upon the noon hour - Garrison courtyard_

The large dark-skinned hand, reaching down to pick d'Artagnan up from the dirt for about the third time, belonged to the man grinning hugely. "Must you get so much enjoyment from besting me, Porthos?"

"But tis such fun, whelp." Dusting the Gascon youth's clothing, Porthos glanced over his shoulder. Aramis' eyes were dancing, while Athos wore a cross look.

"Thought I learned all there was to know regarding hand-to-hand from papa and mes parrains." Looking over his dirty pants and doublet, d'Artagnan frowned in disgust. "Apparently there were one or two gaps in my education."

While attempting to try to outmaneuver the giant again, Porthos easily took d'Artagnan down without batting an eyelid. Twas that quick. The only amusement to have been gained from his poor performance was that Spades began hissing at Porthos. Which in turn made Aramis' day as the marksman turned performing an elegant bow at the cat.

A sour expression still upon Athos' face, he gazed at his protégé. "Porthos fights dirty. You were raised to be a gentleman but not all men play fair."

"If you don't intend to die at a young age, pup," grinned Aramis, "Twould behoove you to learn all the ways of _unfair_ play."

Not waiting for the helping hand this time d'Artagnan gained his feet by himself, while spitting out some dirt that he ate when Porthos threw him to the ground like a puppet. Going over to where Spades held court, d'Artagnan was pleasantly surprised how the other soldiers accepted the feline. The cat was surrounded by at least six Musketeers, all taking turns vying for her attention. He began wondering if perhaps Spades would work out well as a distraction upon missions. That's if d'Artagnan could convince his mentor to let him take her along. He made a mental note to take the matter up with Athos later. Speaking of him, his friend caught d'Artagnan by the elbow to pull him to a stop. "Mmmmm, let go, Athos. I've got to rest after all that punishment."

Dragging the boy over to where Aramis stood, Athos gave the pup a skin of water. Observing their youngest slake his thirst, he allowed a slight smile to touch his lips. "We all know you have considerable skills, child. But there is much more to soldiering than what you have been taught thus far from your pére and parrains.

"Sneaky tactics like the ones Porthos has been showing off could one day save your life." Ruffling the Gascon's dark hair, Aramis winked at the lad.

"Are there underhand tactics to firing off a pistol or musket, Aramis?" Swishing some of the water around in his mouth, d'Artagnan waited for the marksman's response.

"Bien, not so much. That's a matter more or less of skill." Placing his foot upon a horse trough, Aramis leaned forward in a relaxing stance. "Having a keen eye does help too but that's something one comes to learn with experience."

"I'm a pretty good shot." Taking another sip of water d'Artagnan caught an exchange of looks passing between the inseparables.

Laying a hand upon the nape of the boy's neck Athos gave it a gentle squeeze. "Oui you are but Aramis is the best marksman I have ever seen." Nodding at his brother he looked back at his protégé. "One day Aramis will take you from being _pretty good_ to nearly his level of excellence." Holding up a finger, Athos added, "As long as you follow his instruction."

Folding his arms, d'Artagnan studied them all. He knew something none of them did yet. Already having knowledge of hand-to-hand, but not the sneaky tactics, and having been trained in handling pistols and muskets, there was only one skillset he'd acquired from papa that really only needed tweaked in a few directions. Focusing on Athos, he asked, "And what of swordplay?" Quirking a single brow, and with a tilt of his head, he studied the older man.

"In that you are way ahead of your peers. Sometimes scarily so." Perhaps he should not have said any of that. Up to now Athos had been withholding his praise when training d'Artagnan, because he did not want the pup to gain a big head. "Yet there are some improvements I would like to make with you." Noting the child appeared to protest this, Athos held up his hand. Before he could elaborate, Porthos spoke up.

"Kid, ya 'ave the honor of bein' in the presence of the finest swordsman in France. He's your teacher and ya 'ave ta learn from 'im without argument." Hands upon hips, Porthos wore a stern look.

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan snorted. "Tell me something that I haven't already heard?" His sarcasm wasn't lost of the trio. "Twas my papa that first placed a wooden sword in my hand when I was four years of age. I graduated to a steel blade after my eighth natal day. No one was better with a rapier than papa was. I learned from mes parrains about how he fought during the wars." Having the inseparable's attention, he pressed on. "Papa never boasted about his skill. Twas always my oncles that sang his praises."

"D'Artagnan, your pére may have been a fine swordsman back in his day," Aramis walked over to the lad placing a friendly hand upon the pup's shoulder, "but this is a different era."

Not bothering to hide his smirk, d'Artagnan scoffed. "Have any of you at some point ever looked at some of the portraits in the Louve?" Three blank faces stared back at him, as he figured would happen. "Take a close look at the third picture down from King Henry's portrait."

We don't need an art lesson, d'Art?" Knocking Aramis off the overturned barrel the marksman sat upon, Porthos took his place.

Noting the youngster shaking his head at them, as if they were all country bumpkins, Athos' eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to tell us?" He had a funny feeling that whatever d'Artagnan was going to say would impact them all.

"After papa served in the wars he became King Henry's personal guard. There wasn't another soldier around who could compare to him in swordplay." D'Artagnan's lips twitched. "Just ask mes parrains if you don't believe me." He expected to see the stunned expressions upon the inseparables. Back home twas a look d'Artagnan was familiar with once his neighbors discovered the close connection papa had to King Henry.

Retrieving his own sword, that was in its sheath leaning against the barrel now occupied by Porthos, he read the engraving upon the ornate hilt. Holding it out to Athos he waited until his mentor took it from him. "That blade belonged to papa and was personally gifted to him by King Henry and now gifted to me." Taking the weapon back from Athos, d'Artagnan kissed the rapier's steel. "This sword had saved King Henry's life several times over." Touching the blade, he was filled with pride. "His Majesty considered papa the finest swordsmaster in all of France and had those exact words engraved upon its steel."

"They were very close then?" croaked Aramis, who finally got his throat to work.

"King Henry and papa were not simply a monarch and a soldier but were best of friends." Smiling, d'Artagnan gave a rueful shake of his head. "Hence the art lesson I was trying to give you, Porthos. Papa's portrait is that _third one_ _down_ from King Henry's." Observing shock upon the darker-skinned soldier, d'Artagnan refrained from gloating. "I'm sure if you ever care to read the inscription there you would recognize the name _Alexandre d'Artagnan,_ from when I've spoken of papa before." Still standing close to his mentor, d'Artagnan added, "I learned at papa's knee what it meant to be a true swordsman. I just have to learn to be more devious in my approach but I promise to be an apt pupil in that regard, Athos."

Speechless, Athos noted the fire burning brightly in the boy's eyes. Porthos and Aramis were standing by his side now and were clearly astonished at what was divulged. Thinking back upon words spoken by Treville at one time, Athos grimaced. "I now recall there being mentioned another Gascon aside from our captain that was excellent with a sword during Henry's reign and that after many years of service asked to be released to go back home."

"At one time King Henry had asked papa to become the next captain of the Musketeers but papa felt that Oncle Jean-Armand was a better fit for that position." Shrugging, d'Artagnan mused, "From what I've understood from papa, he was homesick and had served by the king's side long enough. By then, he'd earned the right to go home and farm the land that was handed down to him."

Athos admitted to himself that there were times he had been hard pressed, during training with the young Gascon, to come out the victor. Matter of fact twas only a few days ago that d'Artagnan made Athos' blade go flying. He thought twas a fluke but now he knew better.

"I've just gotten tired of you three riding me about how I should do things a certain way if I want to be a good petit Musketeer." Turning to Porthos, d'Artagnan remarked, "I do need to be _sneakier_ using my hands as weapons." Facing Aramis, he tapped the marksman's pistol. "I also know where my weakness lies using firearms. Which would be with a harquebus. There were never any handily around to be taught with." Finally gazing his mentor's way, d'Artagnan slowly smiled. "I was hoping to add some trickier techniques that only you could show me. Moves that papa never learned thus expanding my repertoire." Running a hand through his sweaty hair, he bit his lip thinking upon everything he just divulged to his friends. "Merde! I wasn't supposed to tell any of you this. Oncle Treville's going to have a fit."

Ignoring for the moment d'Artagnan's distress, Aramis mused out loud. "No wonder King Louis was so happy for you to finally join us here." Slapping a hand to his own forehead, he chuckled.

"Followin' in your pére's footsteps, kid?"

"I don't aspire to become His Majesty's personal guard, Porthos." Sighing, d'Artagnan appeared forlorn. Taking them all in, he wondered if he'd ruined his relationship with them. "I hope this doesn't change things between any of us."

The three Musketeers looked at one another then gazed back at the pup.

"I'm still throwin' ya in the horse trough if'n ya make me mad, whelp." Clapping a hand upon the boy's shoulder, Porthos grinned.

"And you'll still muck out the stables if you ever give me any lip, lad." Giving the boy a cheeky grin, Aramis ruffled the Gascon's hair once more.

"I shall still not hesitate to assign you late eve guard duty when tis called for," added Athos.

"Same as usual then," said d'Artagnan, shaking off his worry. Still, he would put off for as long as possible letting his parrains learn about his admission to the inseparables.

"Just remember, d'Art," pointing over at Athos and Aramis, Porthos locked eyes with the young Gascon, "we're a famille. And in this famille we drink, laugh, overshare, yell, hug, and tell inappropriate quips. That's what famille is for." Earning chuckles all around, Porthos poked the kid in the chest, "So don't ya go forgettin' that."

"I give you my solemn promise that I won't." Feeling lighter of heart, cradling Spades in his arms, d'Artagnan wondered what the rest of the day would bring.

++++

_Notes:_

_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Enchanté_ \- enchanted  
_Mes parrains_ \- my godfathers  
_Pére_ \- father  
_Famille_ \- family

 _Harquebus_ \- also spelled arquebus, also called hackbut, first [gun](https://www.britannica.com/technology/gun-weapon) fired from the shoulder, a smoothbore [matchlock](https://www.britannica.com/technology/matchlock) with a stock resembling that of a [rifle](https://www.britannica.com/technology/rifle). The harquebus was invented in Spain in the mid-15th century. It was often fired from a support, against which the recoil was transferred from a hook on the gun. Its name seems to derive from German words meaning “hooked gun.” The bore varied, and its effective range was less than 650 feet (200 m). The harquebus was superseded by the larger [musket](https://www.britannica.com/technology/musket) ( _q.v._ ) in the mid-16th century.

 _Quote: "In this family we drink, laugh, overshare, yell, hug, and tell inappropriate jokes. That's what family is for."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, mid afternoon - Garrison, Captain Treville's office_

His guilty mind bothered him so much that d'Artagnan just had to unburden all to his parrains. Stiffly standing in front of Oncle Jean-Armand, having told him about speaking with the inseprables, he noted the older man briefly close his eyes as if in pain. Seconds later oncle snapped them open to glare at d'Artagnan accusingly.

"I pray that my men would keep everything you said in confidence. If only for your sake." Staring at a point past the boy's shoulder, Jean-Armand thought over a long ago memory involving himself, Armand and Alexandre. "A good thing that like those three I believe most of the regiment have paid scant attention to those portraits." Scratching his chin, Jean-Armand sighed. "I just don't want to see you challenged at every turn by some halfwit simply because of Alexandre's fame."

"Duels are strictly forbidden," stated d'Artagnan, albeit tongue in cheek along with a roll of brown eyes.

Clearing his throat, Jean-Armand narrowed his eyes upon the lad. "That doesn't mean they don't take place and well you know it, d'Artagnan." Pinching the bridge of his nose, he then pushed back his chair to stand up. "I guess I should go inform Armand that the inseparables now know."

"You could send him a missive," innocently suggested d'Artagnan.

"And take the chance of it being intercepted." Shaking his head, Jean-Armand rather do this in person.

"What about Louis?" An odd look passed over his parrain's face, causing d'Artagnan to become curious.

"Knowing him," a dry laugh escaped Jean-Armand, "he won't care in the slightest that his best men know the truth about your pére." Shoulder to shoulder with his filleul, he nodded toward the door. "Why don't we both pay a visit to the Palais-Cardinal" Not waiting for a response, Jean-Armand gently pushed the lad forward. He just hoped the news wouldn't upset Armand too badly. However, he knew that both of them had wanted everything to be as low key as possible about d'Artagnan's childhood. There was nothing for it now but to carry on.

Following the youngster out, Jean-Armand did have to wonder why King Louis hadn't removed Alexandre's portrait before his filleul's arrival. They had discussed it prior to the lad coming to Paris. He could trust the inseparables only so far, knowing that when they hit the tavernes twas a possibility one of them could slip up after having their fill of drink. So focused upon his own concerns, Jean-Armand nearly stepped upon Spades' long tail.

"Watch out!" cried d'Artagnan, almost a tad late. Spades stood facing them with her hair standing upon end, hissing for all she was worth. Making a grab for her, before the cat decided to get away from them, he held her tightly against his chest. "Sorry. I forgot to tell you she was waiting for me."

"I nearly had heart failure when you shouted at me." Glaring at the green-eyed feline, Jean-Armand shook a finger at her. "Next time you might not be so lucky." With a rueful shake of his head he took the steps down to the courtyard, while listening to the boy calming the animal down. Occasionally Jean-Armand still heard Spades hissing from behind him but figured he'd better get used to hearing it. Probably it would be a sound he'd become greatly familiar with.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

Tilting his head toward his friend Armand observed d'Artagnan amusingly watching Spades play, or attempting to, with two of his own cats. The lad knelt down beside the animals rolling a ball of yarn back and forth to them.

"Nothing so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength," Armand murmured. Glancing at Jean-Armand, he smiled. "Our filleul had those qualities when a petit and twould appear nothing has changed in that regard."

In full agreement, Jean-Armand nodded thoughtfully. "D'Artagnan's proved that with how he dealt with the entire Deville fiasco."

"I trust your inseparables are discreet." Armand too worried that some of the guards within their own ranks would take it into their heads to test their mettle against the boy, to see if d'Artagnan was as good as or better than Alexandre. Not that he didn't feel his filleul would be defeated. His concerns were with the lad gaining a reputation which would then leave the youngster open to canailles, and the like, challenging d'Artagnan left and right.

"For the most part they are," grunted Jean-Armand.

Raising a sceptical brow, Armand stared into his friend's eyes. "What type of answer is that?"

"Like your own men, they all have their own favorite watering holes. I simply concern myself that if they overly indulge, bragging might result."

Lips pursed, Armand had to agree with the other man. "Just so." Lightly shrugging, he added, "All we could do is hope for the best." A chuckle escaped him then when Spades jumped into d'Artagnan's lap to avoid being swiped at by Edmé, his own pet. "Play nice, Edmé." Turning to Jean-Armand, he motioned toward documents upon his desk. "Since you're here let's take the time to go over these papers I need to deliver to His Majesty upon the morrow."

While the two older men discussed politics, d'Artagnan continued relaxing upon the floor surrounded by at least eight cats, not including his own. The felines were taking stock of Spades, with his pet content to stay in his arms. "Eventually, Spades, you'll make friends with them." Sitting there, d'Artagnan looked around the room. "There are an awful lot of them. I didn't realize how many oncle collected. Wait until I write papa and maman. They'll be shocked." His cat merely snuggled into his chest, while he ran a hand up and down her fur.

++++

_Later in the day - Aramis' apartments_

When d'Artagnan eventually finished his duties, he went in search of his friends. Stopping by the cantine old Serge had told him that they were headed for Aramis' place when he last saw them. So here he stood about to rap upon Aramis' door when realizing it wasn't quite closed, and snippets of conversation could be heard, d'Artagnan became all ears.

_Inside the apartment_

"All I'm sayin' is that people who feel the need ta stir the crappot should be made ta lick the spoon."

"Porthos... Porthos," chided Aramis. "Repeat what that ass said again so that I understand why you nearly pummeled him into the ground."

"The creep insulted the whelp," growled Porthos. "'E 'ad it comin'."

"What did Blanc say about the pup?" Athos was beginning to lose patience with the giant.

"Said it was a fluke of luck that d'Art killed Deville and 'ad nothin' ta do with the kid's talent with a sword."

"And that's why Blanc looks like a walking bruise." Clapping his hands, Aramis shouted out a delighted laugh.

"I wasn't in the mood ta 'ear 'im tear down the kid." Walking the length of the room and back again, Porthos stared at both his brothers. "Ya tell me that neither one of ya would 'ave done the same thing in my place?"

"You know there comes a time in life when you should stop bending over backwards for people and start leaning forwards so they can kiss your ass." Dark eyes twinkling with amusement, Aramis tilted back in his chair sharing a long look with Athos over a glass of wine. "To avoid a nasty altercation I would have called Blanc a foul name and turned my back upon him."

Snorting, Porthos didn't believe it. "Sure and if 'e'd insulted your skill with firearms that's just what ya would 'ave done?... in a pig's eye."

Afraid his friend's discussion would escalate into a war of words, Athos broke in. "I wholeheartedly subscribe to Aramis' sentiment." Noting the scowl upon Porthos' face, he shook his head. "I would rather turn my back upon a nasty comment than later face Treville having to explain why I ran a fellow brother through with my blade."

Finishing off his wine Athos noted at the entrance the door stood slightly ajar. Believing a figure hovered outside, with a finger to his lips, he motioned towards it. Silently making his way over to it he suddenly jerked it open to find his protégé practically falling on top of him. "Eavesdroppers never here good of themselves, child."

"Oh I don't know about that, Athos." Flashing a quick smile at everyone, d'Artagnan looked at the dark-skinned Musketeer. "Heard Porthos beat the guy up pretty bad defending me."

"Since you've finally joined us," going over to the young Gascon, Aramis threw an arm around the boy's shoulders, "we shall now go dining." Chapeau in hand, he led the way out." I have it upon good authority that today's special is to die for."

"If'n we're goin' ta The Wren," huffed Porthos, "then we will _die_."

"I agree." Frowning, Athos cocked a brow at the marksman's confused look." Last time we ate there I ended up losing part of my stomach throwing up."

Since d'Artagnan's presence in their lives Athos' bad drinking habits were nearly cured, Aramis couldn't very well blame his friend's illness in an overindulgence of liquor. "Porthos, were you sick too?"

"Bit of an upset stomach but figured I ate too much as usual."

"Case of a cast iron belly, more like." Chuckling, Aramis made a decision. "I know a woman..."

"Hold it right there, mon ami." A suspicious look came over Athos' features. "You know _too many_ women and in this case I do not believe we should suddenly spring ourselves upon someone not prepared."

"Gentlemen if I may." Looking from one man to the other, d'Artagnan had an idea.

++++

_Grande Taverne de Londres_

Enjoying a sumptuous dinner consisting of roasted duck surrounded by steaming potatoes, the inseparables lifted their glasses of wine in the air to toast their host... d'Artagnan. The boy shyly ducked his head then speared a forkful of duck to eat.

"You sure Cardinal Richelieu won't mind, lad?" Questioned asked, Aramis continued eating the few remaining cooked vegetables upon his plate.

"My parrain took me here for dinner shortly after my arrival to the city," explained d'Artagnan. "He told me that whenever I was in the mood for better cuisine than I would find in the city to come here and tell the proprietors to add it to his bill." Cleaning the last morsel from his plate, he closed his eyes in absolute bliss. “Another reason Oncle Armand enjoys coming here is that they specialize in dishes that one would be served in the regions of Gascony." Kissing his fingertips, d'Artagnan laughed. "Tis like a taste of home.”

"Well the food's the best I’ve ever eaten, whelp?" Eyeing the last piece of duck in the platter, Porthos caught his friend's gazes resting upon him. He couldn't help but chuckle as, with silent permission from them all, Porthos placed it upon his own plate.

"I knew of this taverne and the reputation it has earned for fine food and drink." Slowly sipping his drink, Athos savored the taste of this fine vintage of red wine. "It was somewhat out of my pocket range so I have never had the opportunity to come here."

"It's outta range for all of us," snorted Porthos.

"Bien, mes amis," grinning, d'Artagnan signaled their waiter to come forward, "another specialty of the house is the brandy which of course also hails from the same region." The waiter served the older men a round of Armagnac.

All three older men noted that d'Artagnan stuck to his single glass of wine and were curious.

"Do you not like the taste of brandy, lad?" Exchanging a look with his brothers, Aramis got a kick out of the face the boy made.

"I admit that my palate is particular and Armagnac does not suit me but I do hope it pleases all of you."

"This really was an unexpected treat, child, in fact..." _In fact_ Athos never got to say whatever he had intended, because there was a disturbance over at the buvette.

Frowning, d'Artagnan listened to the exchange. The proprietor was looking anxious and the angry man he was currently dealing with was beginning to disturb the patrons. Excusing himself from the table he strode over to where the men were. Already knowing the proprietor he acknowledged the older man by name. "Dior may I be of assistance?"

"This gentleman is upset because I won't serve him anything more to drink." Nervously twisting his hands, Dior looked to the young Gascon for help.

Twas pretty obvious that the gentleman in question was three sheets to the wind already. D'Artagnan wanted to try and get him outside, without causing a scene. But when the drunken patron suddenly pulled out a pistol from his waistband, d'Artagnan realized that causing a scene would be the least of his worries.

++++

Throwing his napkin down, Athos violently swore under his breath. Aramis, however, was more vocal.

“ _Merde!_ _This is ridiculous!_ ” Huffing out his anger, Aramis stood up about to go offer d’Artagnan support when a hand upon his arm stayed his action. Shaking Porthos’ hand away, he glared at his brother.

“I know it seems that anywhere we go lately trouble finds us,” Porthos eyes rested upon the whelp, “especially d’Art. But let 'im ‘andle this.”

“And if it goes sideways?” Quirking a brow, Aramis’ eyes flashed in anger.

“Then we intervene.” Calming himself, Athos would also wait to see how this all played out. Though his hand itched to pull out his rapier and go to his protégé’s aid, he did not move a muscle. However, a noise from Porthos caught his attention. Tipping his head back, he scowled at the larger man.

"Sorry." Apologizing, but not very sorry at all, Porthos held a half full glass of wine in his hand. "I just rescued some wine... it was trapped in a bottle 'ere." Tapping said bottle, he continued filling his glass. "Gotta 'ave somethin' ta do while watchin' the kid."

Wanting to swat Porthos up the backside of his friend's head, Athos sighed deeply. "Go on and do what you want. Aramis and I will watch out for our pup."

"Don't worry, I've got an ace up my sleeve if'n d'Art needs our 'elp."

"Do tell." Leaning forward, Aramis was curious as to what his Porthos meant.

Pointing to his doublet, Porthos grinned. Opening it partway, he showed them what he carried. There were two pistols and several smaller poignards.

Eyebrows rose high upon both Aramis and Athos, when their brother's mini arsenal was revealed.

"Were you expecting trouble? Because the only weapon I carry is my sword." Slightly amused, Athos could only stare in surprise.

"Ya never know what life's gonna throw at ya." Pointing over to their youngest, Porthos chuckled. "Since the pup's been with us I figured better safe than sorry."

Amen, mon frere, amen," murmured Aramis. He could only pray that not too much damage would be done tonight. His pockets were nearly empty making him shudder to think of asking Captain Treville later for an advance in pay just because they wrecked the place.

Understanding exactly what thoughts concerned Aramis, Athos pointed out, "Treville is used to us getting involved in these types of situations. Such as they are," he dryly tacked on. "Do not borrow trouble. This all may end without any blood shed."

Crossing himself, Aramis too hoped for a good outcome.

++++

_Notes:_

_Parrains_ \- godfathers  
_Pére_ \- father  
_Canailles_ \- scoundrels  
_Buvette_ \- basically a bar

 _Poignards_ \- daggers

 _Grande Taverne de Londres_ \- Parisian restaurant in 1782 founded by restaurateur Antoine B. Beauvilliers. It was the first luxury restaurant in the city, located on the Rue de Richelieu (and yes, named after the cardinal). I wanted a fancy name for the tavern I wanted to use and one that Richelieu took d'Art too. I'm not sure if it's still a working restaurant now or not. Couldn't find an answer for that on-line.

 _Quote: "Nothing so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength."_ \- from St. Francis de Sales. (August 1567 – 28 December 1622) He was a Bishop of Geneva and is honored as a saint in the Catholic Church. He became noted for his deep faith and his gentle approach to the religious divisions in his land resulting from the Protestant Reformation. He is known also for his writings on the topic of spiritual direction and spiritual formation, particularly the Introduction to the Devout Life and the Treatise on the Love of God.

 _Quote: "People who feel the need to stir the crappot should be made to lick the spoon."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I just rescued some wine... it was trapped in a bottle."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _FYI:_ In Gascony, Moulard ducks are the backbone of all gastronomic traditions. The Gascon love of duck is centuries old. Also today, history aside, or perhaps because of the region's history, the remote area in southwest France is actually better known for Armagnac, a brandy made with white wine grapes. and the red wines typically go well with the regional specialties of the area, especially hearty rustic dishes made with duck and goose.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same place... same drunken sod d'Artagnan's dealing with..._

_Grande Taverne de Londres_

Not wanting the situation to escalate within the place, d'Artagnan tried again. "Why don't we take this outside and talk like gentlemen?"

Sneering, the drunken man fired back. "I like it right here!"

Noting Dior was, at present, upon his knees praying, d'Artagnan nearly rolled his eyes at the sight. Knowing there wasn't any help to be had from the proprietor, he glanced over at the table where the inseparable's calmly sat. Evidently they were leaving it up to d'Artagnan to handle things as none of them appeared to be coming over to help him, he thought sourly. Bien, shrugging internally, he felt that his friends were right. D'Artagnan should be able to handle one drunken lout.

"Monsieur, would you give me the privilege of knowing your name?" Still eyeing the shaky hand aiming the pistol at him, d'Artagnan patiently waited. It wouldn't do for the other man to accidentally shoot him in someplace vital.

"Why do you need to know?" snapped the angry drunk.

Dipping his head slightly, d'Artagnan smiled. "Tis always nice to know the name of the person I'm going to kill." Really, he wasn't about to spill blood here. At least that wasn't his objective but the drunken patron didn't need to know that part.

"Name's Ives, not that it matters to you, boy!"

"Ives, I can't say tis a pleasure to meet you but honestly do you really want to be arrested by Musketeers this eve?" Wondering if that would get the drunk's attention, d'Artagnan once again glanced back over at his brothers.

"You're not a soldier!" scoffed Ives. "Why you're nothing but a child playing at being a man with that toy sword of yours!"

Bristling at being called a petit garcon, d'Artagnan's eyes narrowed. This has gone on long enough. So fast that the other man didn't see it, he whipped out his rapier bringing the blade up underneath Ive's weapon and away from himself. Unfortunately for d'Artagnan, the drunken patron's pistol went off hitting the chandelier directly above them. That's all it took and then it came crashing down upon them. However, several things happened at once. 

Acting upon pure instinct, d'Artagnan lunged shoving Ives out of the way. When the chandelier came down, missing them both by mere inches, it made a mess of the once immaculate carpeted floor. Twas then that Dior gathered his courage together to retrieve a bottle of Armagnac from behind the buvette. He then brought it crashing down upon Ives' head. Initially, that had been Dior's intent. However, he miscalculated and ended knocking d'Artagnan out with it instead.

Twas then three roars of outrage filled the taverne, exploding from the inseparable's table. The trio then moved upon Ives who was shaken yet unharmed from the mishap. Porthos was the first to reach the drunk. Picking the smaller man up by the lapels of Ive's suit, he began shaking him. While Porthos dealt with him, Athos and Aramis converged upon their unconscious Gascon.

"We should have intervened prior to this happening," growled Athos, staring down guiltily at his protégé.

Feeling a lump the size of a goose egg already beginning to form upon the back of the pup's head, Aramis glared up at the white-faced proprietor. "Couldn't you have hit that one?" Pointing to Ives, still being shaken by his brother, Aramis bit back a harsh curse. "The cardinal is going to have our heads for this."

"Not to mention Treville." Athos, not like his friend, didn't hold back. " _Nom de Dieu!_ " Shaking his head over the debacle, he came back to the scene at hand when Ives' moans reached his ears. "Porthos, put the man back down. I shall take him to the Bastille to sober up."

"What about the whelp?" Wanting to kick the man in the ass, and then some, Porthos' worried eyes settled upon the kid.

"Still out of it." Knowing they couldn't bring d'Artagnan back to Constance and Jacques in this condition, Aramis made a decision. "We shall take him back to my apartments where I can hover over the boy like a protective maman."

"That is a sound idea." Agreeing with his friend, Athos looked at the chandelier... the frightened proprietor... and the startled patrons. Gaining his feet he stood in the center of the room. "Apologies for interrupting your dinners. You may carry on as usual." Watching Dior, he thought that was what d’Artagnan had called the man, wringing his hands in such a way that Athos thought they would surely tie into knots he realized what worried the older man. “Be assured that Cardinal Richelieu would cover the damages to your establishment.”

“Merci, Monsieur, merci.” Dior was much relieved and went to fetch someone to help him clean up the mess.

Chuckling at Athos’ way with the spoken word, Aramis repeated what his brother had told Dior. " _You may carry on as usual_... really?"

An offended look came and quickly went upon Athos' features. "What else was there to say?"

Not bothering to reply, Aramis motioned for Porthos to hand over Ives to Athos. "Porthos, you'll have to carry the lad for us."

"Wished I could _carry_ that drunken sod out in pieces." Grunting out his anger, Porthos did as instructed. Gently taking the whelp from Aramis' grasp he carried d'Artagnan, bridal style, leaving the taverne behind.

Trying to find humor in the situation, Aramis teased. "We shall keep to ourselves how you held the pup like a maiden upon the way to my place."

Lips twitching, Porthos nodded his head. Twould never do for the whelp to find out. D'Artagnan would be more than embarrassed. With Athos getting Ives upon Roger's back, Aramis helped get the boy upon Roulette as Porthos reached out for the lad. Then they all took off.

++++

_Early eve – Aramis’ apartments_

Having split up from his friends, Athos deposited Ives in the Bastille. Then speedily urged Roger over to the marksman’s home. Entering the main room, concern over d’Artagnan filled him. At first the only person he noted was Porthos standing half in and half out of the extra bedroom Aramis was lucky enough to have. Nudging his brother aside, Athos entered it. His friend was sitting upon the edge of the bed, tending to the boy’s head wound. Out of the three of them, the marksman appeared the least worried.

“Athos, you’re thinking too loud as usual, mon ami.” Humming softly, Aramis gently washed away the stickiness of the brandy upon the lad's head with a wet cloth. “I’ve tended many a man in this state and they later lived to tell the tale.” Grinning, dark eyes sparkling, Aramis found humor in their young one's plight. “However, I must say, this is the first time someone’s used a bottle of fine Armagnac to clock someone with.”

A roar of laughter burst forth from Porthos’ massive chest. “What a waste that was but yeah Mis is right. We’ve all had our skulls cracked open with a bottle a time or two.”

“The pup's good deed in taking us to dinner is going to cost the cardinal a bit more than four dinners would have.” Having not informed the captain of what went down at the taverne yet, Athos had wanted to make sure Ives was installed in the jail first. He would leave that one’s fate up to Treville. Being drunk was one thing but assaulting a recruit with a weapon was another. Of course the lump at the back of his protégé’s head could not be laid at Ives' feet. That was out of their hands.

When d'Artagnan began to stir, and moan, Porthos sat down at the foot of the bed while Athos occupied a vacant chair upon the opposite side.

Cracking one eye open at a time, d’Artagnan blinked owlishly up at the ceiling. “ _Oh Mon Dieu! My head aches so!_ ” Dizziness hit him when he attempted to sit up too fast but caring arms were there to make sure he didn’t tilt sideways and tumble off the bed.

Caught off guard when the pup went sideways, Aramis acted fast to catch the lad. “Easy now, d’Artagnan.” Resting a hand upon the Gascon’s back, Aramis slowly eased the boy into a sitting position.

Gingerly touching the back of his head, d’Artagnan winced at the pain that produced. “ _Merde! That hurts!_ ”

“As would any man’s, child, after being hit with a full bottle of brandy.” Observing the awfully pale, pained face, Athos’ jaw clenched. “Aramis had to put some stitches in after pulling out several pieces of glass that had cut you.”

“Mind you, don’t pull out my needlework,” sternly warned Aramis.

That, at least, explained why d’Artagnan was extra sore back there. Despite how uncomfortable he felt, there was still the need to know what happened after he blacked out. “Ives, remember him? Did you leave the man behind at the taverne after our fight?”

“Don’t ya wanna know 'ow your brain almost turned into mush, kid?”

With a rueful look covering his face, d’Artagnan shrugged.

“After ya shoved Dior outta the way, the proprietor tried ta ‘elp ya out by clobberin’ Ives with that bottle Athos mentioned.” Chuckling, Porthos shook his head. “But ‘e got ya instead of the drunk.”

“But the really good part was when Porthos here,” grinning, Aramis pointed to his brother, “almost shook Ives apart at the seams.”

“Twas then I had to stop him from doing so. I personally made sure Ives has a nice rest in our Bastille,” said Athos. “Perhaps he may see the error of his ways.” Lips pursed, he thought about that for a second. “Then again, perhaps not.”

“Captain Treville will decide the man’s punishment in the morn,” tacked on Aramis. Watching a range of emotions cross over the lad’s features, he tipped his chapeau at an angle winking at the boy. “Nothing builds self-esteem and self-confidence like accomplishment.”

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan snapped, "I already have both." On another note, something had nagged at him ever since he awakened. Concentrating hard, he realized what it was. "Mes parrains may very well lock me up and throw away the key after finding out what happened." Groaning into his hands, d'Artagnan felt fingers carding through his wet hair. Looking upward, he caught his mentor's sympathetic gaze focused upon him.

"Believe it or not, things like this happen all the time to Musketeers." Meaning to make the boy feel better by telling d'Artagnan he was not alone with such happenings, Athos was glad to have brought a smile to the child's face.

"So aside from pistols, muskets and swords, I must learn to duck from liquor bottles?" Brown eyes dancing, as he looked from one man to the other, d'Artagnan grinned.

"Depending where you are, then oui." Handing the lad a pain draught, Aramis was amused when the young Gascon sniffed at it first. "Tis not poison."

"Smells foul." Drinking it down its sour taste almost made d'Artagnan gag. "Tastes foul too."

"As if your an expert in making draughts." Ruffling the boy's hair, Aramis sat back down.

"Actually I do know something of it." Having surprised the inseparables, there wasn't anything for it but to explain himself. "Maman makes draughts from the herbs she grows. She's much in demand back in Lupiac. Maman taught me some of it, though my mind was set upon other pursuits at the time. Yet some of it sunk in including how to make a poultrice."

"Aramis," blue eyes twinkling, Athos glanced at the marksman, "You may have a potential pupil here."

"Finally." Pointing at his two friends, turning toward d'Artagnan, Aramis' expression spoke volumes. "They don't have the heads for learning the techniques of preparing the correct herbs. Nor the patience."

"I didn't come here to be a physician, Aramis." A bit put out at this, d'Artagnan's eyes narrowed upon the marksman.

Pouting, for about all of five seconds, Aramis chuckled. "You haven't been here long enough to know that I also double as a field medic."

Knowing that Aramis occasionally patched one of them up when called upon, d'Artagnan hadn't realized that being a medic was part of the job.

"I've studied under the Garrison's docteurs, so at least I may be able to save lives during missions or whenever I may be needed as an extra hand in the infirmary." Aramis could almost see the wheels spinning in that Gascon head of the lad's.

"He could use the extra help," remarked Athos, with a pointed look at his protégé.

"All right but," holding up a warning finger, d'Artagnan stabbed the air, "I don't want anyone blaming me for someone's death."

"Never, lad." Delighted that d'Artagnan would be learning from him, Aramis dipped his head at the boy. "I wouldn't let them."

"Mis, can I ask ya a question?"

Smirking, Aramis raised a brow. "You just did, Porthos." Listening to the larger man's grumbles, he covered a laugh by pretending to cough. "What was it you needed to know, mon frere?"

"I forgot!" snapped Porthos.

"Guys," interrupting the byplay between the two men, d'Artagnan locked eyes with Aramis, "Nice as this is I think I should go home."

Thing was Athos and Aramis had earlier discussed that the boy should remain where he was for the rest of the eve. When they told that to d'Artagnan, the youth appeared distressed.

"I've left Spades with Constance while we dined. I told her I'd only be a few hours."

"She has known you to pull overnight duty at the palace. What makes this any different?" Not understanding d'Artagnan's agitation, Athos pressed on without the lad answering him. "Surely Constance could take care of a cat?"

"Jacques and Spades aren't getting along too well because he constantly sneezes whenever she's in his vicinity." Trying to get out of bed, d'Artagnan didn't get far with Porthos' heavy hands upon his shoulders.

"Jacques wouldn't hurt her," said Aramis.

"I know that but Spades is sensitive, has a nasty temper at times and doesn't like being locked in my room when I'm gone." Lowering his eyes, d'Artagnan worried his lower lip. "I don't want her to hurt him."

"I shall retrieve your pet, child." Chucking the youngster under the chin Athos walked over to retrieve his chapeau from the table. Though his parting words made all of them laugh. "Heaven forbid that you become responsible for Spades scratching the man in a fit of pique."

After the door closed behind Athos, d'Artagnan eased back down upon the mound of pillows Aramis had piled behind his back. "Would either one of you like to go tell Oncle Jean-Armand for me what happened?"

Suddenly both Porthos and Aramis had other things to do. A few hastily mumbled words in response and the next thing d'Artagnan knew Porthos was out the door. Aramis, at least, was more coherent in his excuses. "I have another pain draught to make for you and a poultrice to apply to the back of your head."

Thinking to himself that he guessed it wouldn't matter much if oncle found out this eve or upon the morrow, d'Artagnan slid underneath the covers and closed his eyes.

++++

_Notes:_

_Parrains_ \- godfathers  
_Buvette_ \- basically a bar  
_Nom de Dieu_ \- God damn it

 _Quote: “Nothing builds self-esteem and self-confidence like accomplishment.”_ – from Thomas Carlyle (4 December 1795 – 5 February 1881) He was a Scottish philosopher, satirical writer, essayist, translator, historian, mathematician, and teacher. Considered one of the most important social commentators of his time.

 _"Can I ask you a question?"_  
_"You just did."_  
(Above lines from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com).


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next Day, Mid Morn - The Louvre, Royal Gardens_

Popping a grape in his mouth Louis' dark eyes sparkled, as he gazed at Anne. The latter was brimming over with amusement. Both had already heard the tale of what took place last eve at one of the tavernes in the city.

"I feel for young d'Artagnan after the cardinal's done scolding the boy." Listening to her husband's quiet chuckles, Anne's lips curled upwards.

"Cardinal Richelieu appeared rather out of sorts before he left us this morn." With a casual shrug, Louis smirked. "Pity that."

"His Eminence is probably thinking about having to pay the proprietor for damages owed," pleasantly remarked Anne.

"Perhaps once the cardinal's done with the boy we should invite d'Artagnan over to cheer him up." Nodding his head in thought, Louis figured it a good idea.

"But, Louis, d'Artagnan has other duties to attend." With that gentle reminder, Anne added, "After all he's here to train to become a Musketeer not to just socialize with us and we shouldn't interfere with that."

"Perhaps you're right." Giving her a warm look, Louis reached out to touch Anne's hand. "I'm glad we married." Picking out a different piece of fruit Louis began peeling the skin off a banana. "Together we're stronger."

"I always thought so." Reaching out Anne took the banana from her husband and peeled it for him before giving it back. His amused chuckle brought about the same reaction from her.

"Hopefully Cardinal Richelieu won't badger our Gascon to death over what took place." Finished eating, Louis stood up to pull back Anne's chair. "You are done, oui?" Glancing at her empty plate, he assumed so. "Because if you are I suggest we go back inside. I do have some correspondence that I need to go through."

"Tis such a sunny day out that I would like to stay here for a bit longer, Louis." Patting the hand he held out toward her, Anne smiled. "I promise I won't run away."

"Never thought you would." Grinning from ear to ear, Louis theatrically whispered, "After all I put all others in the shade."

Laughing at her husband's jest, Anne continued to bask in the warmth of the day.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

Standing in front of his parrain, head bent, not daring to look the older man in the eye, d'Artagnan felt like he was back home being reprimanded for a wrong he'd done. Of course that was when he'd only been a mere petit, but the way Oncle Armand was scowling at him made d'Artagnan's legs begin to shake.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Armand glared at the youngster. "You're a walking, talking disaster area ... you know that?" Throwing both arms up in the air, he began pacing the room. "Jean-Armand and I hoped you'd outgrow your penchant for finding and getting into trouble." The lad still wouldn't look at him. Sighing, he drew closer. Tipping his filleul's chin up, so Armand could look the boy in the eye, his mouth clamped tightly shut.

Armand realized that d'Artagnan had faced the drunken patron to diffuse a tense situation, before it got out of control. The instant the other man had pulled a pistol upon the boy probably should have been the moment the lad should have backed off and let one, or all three, of the inseparables handle it. Which, come to think upon it, brought him to the part where he was going to have words with Jean-Armand over that trio's lack of intervention.

This was ridiculous thought d'Artagnan. He stopped Ives, regardless of the damage done. The only one that got hurt was himself. Still, here he stood. Being berated for doing the correct thing. Probably after this dressing down, Oncle Jean-Armand would want a piece of him as well. Wondering if twas now all right to say something in his own defense, d'Artagnan's head decided to remind him of last eve. " _Ow!_ " Rubbing the pain away, he missed the look of surprise aimed at him.

"I didn't know you had been injured," snapped Armand. "I was told what happened by an acquaintance of mine that was at the taverne last eve." Snatching a piece of paper from his desk, he waved it under his filleul's nose. "Shortly followed by the delivery of this bill."

"You mean that Oncle Jean-Armand hasn't visited you yet?" Surprised, and now completely understanding why his parrain was really upset, d'Artagnan gave the older man the full version of events.

"It doesn't make me feel much better but your heart was in the right place, d'Artagnan." Examining the area that Aramis had stitched up, Armand's lips pursed. "Still doesn't explain to me why none of the inseparables helped you."

"They had confidence in me to handle the situation. Since I was the one who knew Dior I figured it was up to me to take care of things before they got out of hand." Gingerly touching the back of his head again, d'Artagnan noted Oncle Armand's eyes narrowing. "How could I have known that Dior would try to knock Ives out with a bottle? Accidentally getting me instead."

"Ah, bien," Armand wrapped a comforting arm around the boy's shoulder, "at least you had a good meal before it all went to hell in a handbasket."

"May I go now?" Grimacing, d'Artagnan knew what was in store for him next. "I'm sure Oncle Jean-Armand needs to reprimand me next."

Chuckling, Armand noted the sad look upon his filleul's face. "Just wait a minute before you leave." Going back to his desk he scribbled some words on a sheet of paper. Handing it off to the lad, he said, "Give him this and I doubt Jean-Armand would scold you at all." Twisting his mustache, Armand tilted his head. "By now tis more than likely your inseparables have explained to him what took place. I didn't give you time to report to his office first."

"If you had maybe I wouldn't have found myself here." Feeling the way he did, d'Artagnan didn't care how he sounded.

"Oui, you're right," agreed Armand. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions until I had all the facts. Apologies, d'Artagnan."

Shocked that his parrain had told d'Artagnan that he was sorry wasn't something he'd expected. Nonetheless, twas something he felt was owed him anyway. "Your famille so I have to forgive you." An impish grin accompanied his words, to which Oncle Armand simply laughed.

"Off with you now and do try to stay out of trouble." Noting the odd look crossing the boy's face, Armand wondered if twas something he'd said.

"I believe _trouble_ goes hand-in-hand with being a Musketeer." Shaking his head over the older man's words, d'Artagnan had to wonder what was going through Oncle Armand's mind. "How am I supposed to stay out of it? Tis part of becoming a soldier you know." With a cocky air he made his way out the door, pleased that he'd had the last word.

++++

_Garrison – Captain Treville’s office_

Fingers steepled in front of him, Treville gave a rueful grin to his lieutenant. “Poor Dior.”

“If you are referring to the proprietor he would not be _poor_ for much longer.” A movement about Athos’ mouth that upon anyone else would have looked like a smile was, in his case, nothing more than a minor twist of the lips.

A choked out laugh escaped Treville then abruptly he collected himself. “I should ask after my filleul. After all d’Artagnan was the one who nearly got his head cracked open like an egg."

“Aramis tended to the lad last eve and as we speak he is currently with the cardinal explaining away why _poor Dior_ deserves the funds.”

“Was that sarcasm, Athos?” Drumming his fingers upon a ledger, Treville’s blue eyes twinkled.

Shrugging one shoulder, Athos didn’t bother himself with a response to that question. “All in all, D’Artagnan handled himself well.” Rolling his eyes, he added, “The lad never would have gotten hurt if it were not for the proprietor’s bungling in the first place.”

“Under the circumstances I don’t need to see the boy.” Smiling, Treville opened his ledger. About to write in it, he glanced up at the younger man. “After all, d’Artagnan saved this Ives from major injury. Tell my filleul that he acted honorably.” Then as an afterthought, just before Athos was about to depart, Treville changed his mind. "You know there is something I'd like to discuss with d'Artagnan after all. Do send the lad up to see me after he's done with the cardinal."

The need to know why Treville wanted to see his protégé was pushed aside for now, knowing twas none of Athos' business. Taking only a few steps toward the door, he heard the captain laughing once more and wondered at it. Curious Athos stopped, turned around, and stared at the officer. “May I ask what you find so amusing?”

“His Eminence having to shell out more coin than he would have had to do for a dinner for four.” Waving his lieutenant out, Treville kept on laughing.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

Spluttering mouthfuls of water, clothes sopping wet, a bedraggled Aramis came out from one of the stables. He wasn't in the mood either to hear bellows of laughter coming from Porthos on top of a prank that had gone sideways.

Bent over nearly double, slapping his knees, tears of mirth poured down Porthos' swarthy features. "What the 'ell were ya thinkin that 'ad ya endin' up lookin' like somethin' even the cat wouldn't drag in?" He kept on laughing, especially at the sour expression Aramis threw him.

Huffing out annoyance with his friend, Aramis snapped, "Why do people ask _what the hell were you thinking?_ " Shaking his legs out one at a time to remove excess water, he gave it up as a lost cause. "Obviously I was thinking I was going to get away with it and not have to explain it."

By this time Athos had joined them. He was not happy at what he saw either. "I am not sure if even I want to know what has caused you to appear as if you took a dip in the Seine and came out of it looking worse for wear."

When Aymard exited the stable, shoulder to shoulder with another Musketeer, he couldn't hide his amusement. Slapping the marksman upon the back, he chortled. "Seems like your prank came back to bite you in the ass this time, Aramis."

"One of ya want ta tell us what 'appened? Cause I really gotta 'ear this one." Wiping the tears from his face, Porthos grinned. If Aramis wouldn't tell him Aymard would.

"I hung a huge bucket of water above the entrance to the stable because I knew Gaston was going to groom the horses." Swiping at the droplets of water running into his eyes, Aramis frowned. "When nothing happened after Gaston arrived for duty I didn't understand why it didn't work. So I went back inside to see what went wrong."

Still holding each other up from laughing so hard, Gaston and Aymard couldn't wait to tell their fellow brethren. But twas Gaston that explained why Aramis looked like he'd gone for a swim. "I didn't know what he had planned for me. Not until he came inside and that bucket of water came cascading down all over him." Quirking a brow at the marksman, he teased, "Guess twas delayed reaction."

Twas about then that d'Artagnan made an appearance, with Spades in his arms, and did a double take at his brother. "All I can think to say, Aramis, is that tis better than getting knocked unconscious with a brandy bottle." His words set off the rest of the men again, all except Athos. The latter merely shook his head with an exaggerated roll of eyes and snagged d'Artagnan's arm, pulling him away from the group.

++++

_Notes:_

_Parrain_ \- godfather  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Famille_ \- family

_Quote: "Why do people ask 'what the hell were you thinking?' Obviously I was thinking I was going to get away with it and not have to explain it."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, around noonish - Garrison - Captain Treville's office_

"Come in, d'Artagnan." With a careless wave of a hand, Jean-Armand motioned the youth forward. Slowly his filleul slowly walked toward his desk. The boy probably thought he still was going to rake him over the coals about the taverne incident. However, that wasn't the reason Jean-Armand told Athos he wanted to see the lad. "Sit down."

Athos hadn't been very forthcoming, when d'Artagnan had asked his mentor why the captain had needed to see him. Though his natural curiosity overcame his slight case of nerves, as he obediently took a seat.

Holding up a sealed envelope, Jean-Armand smiled. "King Louis wanted me to personally deliver this to one of his most loyal supporters." With a quirk of one brow, he focused solely upon the youngster's eager expression. "I would like you to come along. Tis about time for you to meet other nobles in the region. You didn't get much chance to do so when Armand held his lawn fete." Knowing how that turned out, Jean-Armand didn't need to spell it out for the youngster.

"May I ask whom we're going to see?" Pleased to have a reason to leave the city again, for whatever the cause, d'Artagnan couldn't wait to go with his parrain, er his captain that is.

"An old friend of Armand's actually. But one that has backed young Louis in nearly every endeavor His Majesty has undertaken." Rummaging around in his desk for something he couldn't find, Jean-Armand muttered to himself. His head snapped back up to find a pair of amused, dark eyes watching him. "When you get to my age, d'Artagnan," he drawled, "you'll soon start misplacing things too." The lad said something under his breath to which Jean-Armand thought certainly sounded like - _I certainly hoped not_. Giving up trying to locate whatever it was, he sat back in his chair. "Comte Daviau Chaban-Delmas lives but only a three day journey from Paris in Centre."

"May Spades be allowed to come with us?" Crossing his fingers, d'Artagnan held his breath. He, in all good conscience, couldn't leave her locked in her room at the Bonacieux's. He was afraid if Constance gave Spades run of the house that things could get nasty between his pet and Jacques. Though the older man did his very best to stay out of the feline's way, d'Artagnan didn't trust that his cat wouldn't take a swipe at the merchant just for being there.

Since d'Artagnan's parrain wouldn't be here to keep her company in his office, he couldn't pawn Spades off to just anyone. Oui, Oncle Armand came to mind but the cat had only really gotten along with one of his oncle's pets. The others either hissed at her or ignored Spades altogether. The inseparables wouldn't have time for the feline either. So d'Artagnan really, really hoped he would be able to take her along.

Giving it some thought, Jean-Armand hummed quietly. "As far as I know the Comte doesn't have any aversions to animals of any type." Staring hard at the lad, he said, "As long as you promise to control her it should be fine."

"Then when do we leave?" Seeing an adventure ahead, where there probably was none, d'Artagnan couldn't wait to saddle up Zad.

Understanding that look in the younger man's eyes, Jean-Armand's own twinkled. "Nothing adventurous or romantic in this excursion, I'm afraid."

Surprised that his thoughts were so easily out in the open, d'Artagnan couldn't offer any witty comebacks.

"To answer your question over our departure... I thought we'd head out in an hour." Jean-Armand held back his own amusement, at the speed to which d'Artagnan lept from the chair to head for the door. Putting on his best captain's voice, he said, "I don't remember dismissing you yet."

A blush stole up d'Artagnan's face, as embarrissment filled him. He could have kicked himself silly. "Apologies, Sir," he blurted out, wishing the floor would swallow him whole.

An exaggerated sigh escaped Jean-Armand. "I was young once too," he mused out loud. "Go on. Prepare Zad and enough rations for our trip." Just as his filleul was about to turn around to leave, Jean-Armand's fingers snapped. "And see what Serge could scrounge up for you to take along for Spades. Though if the weather holds out we could stop to do some fishing. Then she could dine in style." Listening to the boy's chuckles, he winked at him before d'Artagnan departed.

++++

After procuring food stuffs from Serge, d'Artagnan had quickly gone to the stable to ready Zad. Leading his horse by the reins, he went in search of Spades. His pet was supposed to be with either Porthos or Aramis, while he was with the captain. Athos had gone over to the armory, to see about some missing weapons. Walking into the courtyard, d'Artagnan's eyes skimmed the area. A warm smile hovered about his mouth, when spotting Spades curled contently in Aramis' lap. "So you've added charming cats to your neverending list of female acquaintances."

"Was that a question or a smart aleck accusation?" Laughing at the pup's eyeroll, Aramis picked Spades up to deposit her into their young Gascon's arms. "She's been above reproach and every inch a lady." Formally bowing to the cat, he went back to the bench where his weapons laid. "Your talk went well I gather since your head's still attached to your shoulders."

"Oh yeah." With head bobbing, d'Artagnan grinned. "Captain didn't even speak to me about what you and I thought."

"Oh." Tilting his head to one side, Aramis studied the lad closely. "Have you been given an assignment then?"

"Mmmmm," hummed d'Artagnan. "You could say that."

"'Ow about _ya_ sayin' what the captin' wanted ya for, whelp?" Having just joined them, Porthos caught the last part of the conversation.

Quickly explaining where he and the captain were going, d'Artagnan wondered at the twin frowns each man wore. "Tis going to be fine. Centre's only three days away."

"In less than _one day_ you could find yourselves in a lot of trouble," brooded Aramis. "Maladrins roam on those roads and there would only be the two of you to protect each other."

"Don't forget, I've got Spades in my arsenal." The cheeky grin d'Artagnan sported quickly faded at Aramis' reaction.

" _Merde!_ " Shoving his chapeau back from his head, Aramis' scowl was worthy of the ones Athos usually gave out. "Above all we mustn't forget the cat!"

"Kid," rough voice breaking in, Porthos wasn't any happier than his friend, "does Athos know?"

"I couldn't find him. He was supposed to be over at the armory but he wasn't there when I went looking for him," explained d'Artagnan. "We're leaving soon so I guess it's up to you guys to tell him for me."

Exchanging uneasy glances, both Porthos and Aramis glared back at their youngest.

"I'd sooner eat nails," spat Porthos.

Frowning, Aramis pointed at the larger man. "What he said."

Noting the captain coming over upon his own mount, d'Artagnan grimaced. "I'm afraid you'll have to." Turning away from his brothers, he placed Spades up front atop Zad's back and then got himself situated into the saddle behind her. With a last look at the two unhappy faces staring back at him, a twinge of guilt filled d'Artagnan. He had an idea that Athos wouldn't be pleased and, in a way, was rather glad not to be here when that happened.

++++

_Enroute to Centre_

“What did Athos have to say? I wanted to speak with him myself but time flew away from me.” Jean-Armand assumed that d’Artagnan would have done so in his stead but in that he discovered wrongly.

“He wasn’t where he was supposed to be,” said d’Artagnan. “I had to leave it up to the others to let him know.”

“In other words Athos is going to be upset with the both of us.” Ah, bien, Jean-Armand would simply roll with the punches when they came back facing his bent out of shape lieutenant. "At least one of them will inform Athos that he's in charge while I'm away."

They traveled companionably together. Sometimes talking about trivial things and sometimes just taking in the scenery. In Jean-Armand’s case he liked to reminisce about some of the shenanigans he, Armand and Alexandre used to get up to back in the day.

By the time the two of them had swapped stories of living in Lupiac, they had begun to loose daylight. Having spotted a lake up ahead, they decided to make camp there. Having heated up the stew that Serge had carefully packed for them, they would retire with full stomachs. Spades, of course, had some special treats that the old cook had snuck into d'Artagnan's pack.

As the eve grew quite late, with the warm glow of the fire bathing them, twas d’Artagnan that went for his bedroll first with Spades tucked comfortably under his arm.

Observing his young filleul stretching out rather long limbs upon the bedroll, an unexpected yawn took Jean-Armand completely by surprise. Perhaps he too should follow the boy’s example, for they would be having an early start come morn.

++++

The crackling embers began to die down, while the two men slept on. Only sounds to be heard were the gentle rustling of leaves from a slight wind present, along with soft snuffles from Spades.

So it came as quite a shock for Jean-Armand and d’Artagnan to be awakened by the cocking of pistols near their heads. Automatically both of them reached for their swords that laid by their sides as they quickly got up. Dismay filled both of them, upon discovering those weapons were not within reach any longer.

“Looking for these?’ Dangling from the maladrin’s hands were the missing rapiers. A wicked grin covered Arsène's face, as he gazed at his two hapless victims. “Very nice they are too,” he cackled. “Fine workmanship. I’m sure I could find some interested buyers for them.”

His words fired up d’Artagnan’s anger. He wouldn’t be parted from papa’s sword at any cost. Standing rigidly by his parrain’s side, or rather, his captain’s, he had to find a way to keep their weapons.

“Those two swords together wouldn’t earn you a decent dinner at the finest inn,” lied Treville. “You’re looking at nothing but fancy work done cheaply to make an impression.” Hoping his bluff paid off, he added, “Myself and the boy don’t earn enough wages to afford the very best.” Glancing at the lad, Treville silently willed d’Artagnan to play along the best he could. Not sure how smart these men were, having counted at least four other rough characters lingering behind the man Treville assumed was the leader, he pressed on. “I do have, however, something of infinitely more value than those weapons within my saddlebags if you let me get them.”

“Show me,” barked Arsène, keeping his pistol trained upon the older man. He signaled one of his men to keep his eye upon the boy as well.

Going over to where his saddlebags were, Treville silently thanked God that his pauldron was well hidden underneath the hand-tooled leather saddle that he’d placed upon the ground earlier. Heaven alone only knew what these men would have done if they’d found out he was a Musketeer and a captain to boot. The blanket that was thrown over his saddle also hid its workmanship which would have also been a giveaway that Treville, at least, was not poor.

What he attempted now was a risky move and Treville knew it. Reaching into one of the saddlebags he carefully withdrew a leather pouch, feeling all the while the voleur's pistol against his shoulder blades. Twas enough coin to satisfy even these ruffians. If all went well, Treville figured the maladrins would take the money and leave them in peace. Placing the heavy pouch in the leader's hand, he stepped back. Wary of what this man would do, Treville was prepared to defend himself even without weapons. His eyes searched out d'Artagnan's, willing the lad to not act rashly. A minute nod of the boy's head told him his message was received.

Happy with the weight of money in his hands Arsène grinned, showing blackened, rotted teeth. "You're right." Having already thrown the rapiers down, he tossed the bag up in the air a few times. Pleased with the exchange, he gave an elaborate bow to the older man and boy.

Twas this moment that Spades made her presence be known. Arching her back, she hissed at the criminals. The atmosphere had been a tense one to begin with but more so with her green eyes flashing in anger.

Arsène merely laughed at the cat but his men backed away from the feline. None of them apparently relished being raked by the creature's sharp claws. Looking at his band, he sadly shook his head. "You lot aren't worth spit!" Shaking his head Arsène glanced at the lad. "See what I have to put up with?"

"My heart bleeds." Knowing he should have just remained silent, d'Artagnan couldn't help channeling Athos. His mentor's sarcasm was well known and most of the regiment never wanted to be upon the receiving end of the man's cutting tongue. What could he say? His brother was a bad influence.

Closing his eyes, Treville prayed that a stray ball wouldn't find it's way into his filleul because of the boy's smart mouth. Though he had to admire the youngster's bravery. In certain circles some would call it the height of stupidity to pull the tiger's tail. Then again d'Artagnan came from a long line of stubborn Gascons, just as Treville had. Being known for never turning down or backing away from a fight was as natural to them as was breathing.

Ignoring the younger one's words, Arsène stared down at the swords he'd thrown away in lieu of the coins. "I may have been too hasty in my decision to not take those." Bending down to pick them up, suddenly he found himself under attack. There was a mad creature digging its claws into his back, clear through his jacket. Trying to shake the cat off proved nearly impossible.

Spade's timely intervention gave Treville and d'Artagnan the distraction they desperately needed. Diving for their rapiers they began taking on the other batards while the group's leader continued his own battle.

Enjoying the exhilerating feeling it gave him to give free reign to his emotions, d'Artagnan easily cut down the two men he dealt with. Looking over his shoulder it appeared his captain was doing a good job of his own with the other two that were left. And, in this instance, the older man was indeed his _captain_ and not the kind parrain d'Artagnan had grown up with.

Both Gascons were winded, by the time they'd finished dispatching their opponents. While catching their breaths, they were highly amused at the maladrin leader's predicament. However, Spades was not done with his own victim yet. By the time she'd vented her anger upon the voleur, the man was covered with bloody clawmarks over a good portion of his face.

"You know, d'Artagnan, twas a good thing my pauldron was hidden underneath my saddle." Treville caught site of said saddle where it laid near his bedroll once he had removed it from his mount's back. "Otherwise they may have gotten the idea to ransom us."

"Or kill us outright," flatly stated d'Artagnan.

"My thanks for that visual." Deciding to take pity upon the maladrin, Treville strode over to where the man was rolling around upon the ground clutching at his bleeding face. Plucking Spades from the criminal's body, he handed her over to d'Artagnan.

"What are we going to do with him?" Staring down at the maladrin, d'Artagnan's heart held not one iota of pity for the man.

"We'll tie the scum up for now but come morn the next town we go through the local authorities can take him off our hands." Picking the voleur up Treville dragged him over to one of the trees where he tied the man to it using some heavy rope from his saddlebags.

"I'm sure being in jail would prove beneficial for that batard’s health rather than being out here where the maladrin could be attacked by other wild creatures." Hearing the captain's soft laughter fill the eve’s air, d'Artagnan’s smile spread. “My oh my, the foul names he called Spades would have even shocked Porthos’ sensitive ears.” Stretching long arms high over his head, yawning the entire time, d’Artagnan glanced sheepishly at the older man. "I'm going back to sleep." Cuddling Spades against his chest they both headed for his bedroll.

"Sweet dreams, d'Artagnan," whispered Jean-Armand, happy to get back into his role as the boy's parrain and honorary oncle.

++++

_Notes:_

_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Parrain_ \- godfather  
_Maladrins_ – brigands  
_Batard_ – bastard  
_Voleur_ \- thief


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next Day, early morn - back en route to Centre_

After a brief stop to deliver the maladrin to the local authorities, and to let them know about the four dead bodies they left behind, Jean-Armand and d'Artagnan continued on their journey.

"What brought about that smile?" Having caught the boy trying to hide it, and losing at the attempt, Jean-Armand wondered what brought it about.

"Our adventure barely began and already I have a tale to spin to my friends." A twitch of d'Artagnan's lips and his smile returned brighter than the first time.

"Lad, I keep telling you this is not an _adventure_." Amused, despite himself but yet serious, Jean-Armand kept one eye upon the docile cat wrapped around d'Artagnan's neck like a snug scarf.

"You call it what you will," shot back d'Artagnan. "I'll call it what I want." Tugging Spades' long, black tail that swished back and forth over his left shoulder, he grinned when she licked the side of his face. "What is the Comte like?" Changing the subject always worked with his parrain.

"Around the same age as Armand and myself." D'Artagnan thought to get off the topic of _adventures_ , eh? Bien, Jean-Armand would let it go for now. "Keeps in shape and is almost as good with a sword as Alexandre."

"Papa? Really?" Food for thought at some later time but d'Artagnan natural curiosity was still peaked. "You mentioned that he was a friend of Oncle Armand's." At the nod of the older man's head, he asked another question. "Where did they meet?"

"Comte Chaban-Delmas didn't always live life as a nobleman. He grew up amongst us in Lupiac." Noting the boy's open-mouthed astonishment, Jean-Armand chuckled. "You'll catch flies that way."

"Then the Comte knew papa?" Momentarily distracted, when Spades uncurled herself from d'Artagnan's neck to perch upon one of his shoulders, he waved his hand for his parrain to tell him all of it.

"Not only did all of us know one another but Daviau, as he was known by all, trained with your père."

"I'm confused." Scrunching his brows together, d'Artagnan frowned. "What would someone of noble birth be doing living amongst commoners?"

"That's because there had been a threat to his life and Daviau's parents wanted to keep him safely tucked away until the threat had been removed." Jean-Armand used to believe that the three of them - himself, Alexandre and Armand, used to get into as much trouble as the inseparables do today. When the addition of Daviau was brought into the mix, it always seemed there was some daring do to attend around nearly every corner. Refraining from telling the youngster that part, Jean-Armand reserved the right to tell d'Artagnan at a more appropriate time.

"I don't remember him," muttered d'Artagnan. He never did like not getting the whole picture and this was one of those times. Removing Spades from his shoulder he placed her back in front of him.

"You wouldn't, having not been born yet." Guiding his horse towards a stream of fresh water Jean-Armand agilely jumped from the saddle to lead the animal over to it, with d'Artagnan following suit. "Daviau lived with Alexandre's own parents for nearly a year until he was able to safely return to his own family."

As an idea hit him, d'Artagnan's fingers snapped. "He was the fourth to your threesome as I am to the inseparables." Thinking what a coincidence this was, d'Artagnan wondered if he would be able to learn more. It appeared, however, that they were going to catch their lunch instead, observing his parrain relaxing by the stream trying to catch some fish.

Letting Spades loose d'Artagnan enjoyed watching her try the same thing, jumping about in the shallow part of the water, every so often pouncing upon anything that moved. Which, in her case, unfortunately wasn't a fish. When said fish did happen Spades' way it always managed to wriggle free from the feline's paws.

"So how long's it been since the four of you have gotten together?" If the other man wouldn't expound upon the past then d'Artagnan would dig it out somehow.

"Too long, lad, way too long." Satisfaction filled Jean-Armand, having caught several large fish for their lunch. Over his shoulder he noted his filleul had caught only one so far. Spades didn't seem to have lady luck going her way either, as she came away empty pawed. Every so often her green eyes flashed, as the cat hissed at the water out of feline frustration.

Later having eaten their fill, and oui sharing their catch with Mademoiselle Spades, the two men hit the road once more.

"You know I can't wait to meet the Comte after what you've told me so far." Spades had fallen asleep curled up in front of d'Artagnan. With one hand upon the reins, he gently stroked the top of her head with his free one. "Is the man married or did he remain a batchelor like you?"

Scowling at the boy, Jean-Armand blew out a long breath. "Being single is smarter than being in the wrong relationship."

Waving his hand airily, d'Artagnan grinned. "Oh I know all about that." Amused, as only an eighteen year old could be, he cocked his head to one side. An impish light in his brown orbs warned the older man he was about to be teased. "Aramis is forever keen upon lending me his wisdom upon the subject." Amusement filled him at what the marksman had last said to him. "And I quote... _Single_ doesn't mean _lonely_ and _relationship_ doesn't always mean _happy_."

Clearing his throat, Jean-Armand glared at the younger man. "Back to what I was saying." His dry tone apparently amused d'Artagnan even further. Jean-Armand raised a brow until the lad's laughter died away. "I'll go you one better," he smirked. "Some days you meet someone and you immediately know you want to spend the rest of your days _without_ them."

"So then what you and Aramis are telling me is that marriage is for the birds?" A lift of his own brow, and narrowed eyes, indicated that d'Artagnan didn't totally agree. "Maman and papa have a fine marriage."

"Oui, that they do but they worked hard at it." Deciding he was getting into thorny territory, Jean-Armand thought to just enjoy the scenery while he could. The boy's silence, however, bothered him. "I haven't been fortunate as Alexandre has been with Françoise. Alas, Daviau has also not been lucky in love either."

"Bien, regardless of yours and the Comte's single status I'm too young to be tied down yet." Rubbing a finger underneath Spades' chin, until she purred with pleasure, d'Artagnan kept his steady gaze upon the road ahead.

"I noted you flirting with that pretty Mademoiselle that lingered just outside the jail when we dropped off that voleur." Watching his filleul blush was entertaining in itself. Jean-Armand couldn't help but get some of his own back.

"There's nothing wrong with that." Shrugging a shoulder, d'Artagnan wished his heated flesh would cool quickly. "Besides I shan't ever see her again so there was no harm done." His parrain pleasantly hummed a response, which irritated d'Artagnan.

"Innocent flirtations when one knows there's not a chance of seeing that person ever again are common amongst Musketeers and most other soldiers." Winking at the lad, he tacked on, "And are the safest."

"Could we change the subject do you think? Like how long are we staying at the Comte's residence once you hand over that missive?" Bending his head forward to check his reins, he got a mouthful of black fur when Spades' tail swished into his face. Brushing it away, spitting out a few stray dark hairs that managed to stick to his mouth, d'Artagnan huffed. "Be still," he gently ordered her.

"Bonne chance, d'Artagnan, at getting Spades to do as you like." Urging his mount to keep up with the youth's, Jean-Armand's eyes twinkled. "After all it pays to remember that a female has a mind all her own."

Ignoring his parrain's words, d'Artagnan finally settled Spades' restlessness. Twas a few more hours of traveling left before they'd have to make camp again, so he only hoped his pet wouldn't get any ideas to go chasing a bird or two along the way.

++++

_Early eve_

Nothing eventful happened once camp had been made except that Jean-Armand had a feeling young d'Artagnan had tried some Porthos-like tricks when playing a few hands of cards together. He wouldn't say anything about it but he'd save his words later for Porthos who appeared to be a bad influence where the boy was concerned. At least when it came to games of chance. Jean-Armand didn't want to dwell too deeply upon what other bad habits Porthos might be teaching the lad.

Twas almost funny too, how the game went. They had both sat near the burning embers of their fire, while playing the game. Spades sat in the boy's lap the entire time. Every so often d'Artagnan whispered something to her and then the cat's paw would touch a certain card the lad held. Usually that was the card Jean-Armand's filleul played and by God that's when d'Artagnan would win a hand.

If Jean-Armand hadn't known better he would think Spades was the lad's familiar. Though he would only make a jest of it with the youngster. Heaven only knew how others would misinterpret his innocent quip. Jean-Armand didn't need rumors running rampant that d'Artagnan was a witch or worse. Still, there was something otherworldly about that feline. Shaking away his fanciful notions, he settled back down in his bedroll as did the boy and his pet.

++++

_Nearly two days later, mid-afternoon – Centre_

_Comte Chaban-Delmas’ Estate_

Stabling their horses first, Treville and d’Artagnan then presented themselves at the door. Knowing the Comte wasn’t expecting them, Treville knew their showing up here unannounced was going to be something of a surprise for his old friend. Though his being here wasn’t for pleasure, he was looking forward to seeing and catching up with Daviau again. The years had separated them and only upon occasion, from Armand, had Treville heard anything of the man. So he would make the most of his time here before their departure back to Paris.

Being led into the main parlor, Treville patiently waited there. D’Artagnan had been allowed to keep Spades with him and, at first, he’d been worried the cat would misbehave. For the time being though, she’s been a perfect lady.

When the Comte made his appearance he had been stunned to see Jean-Armand standing there, albeit an older version of his friend, but Daviau would know those twinkling, blue eyes anywhere. “What in the world!” Opening his arms out wide, he embraced the man. Kissing each side of Jean-Armand’s face he then held him at arm’s length to study him closely for other obvious changes. Daviau noted the letter in his friend’s hand. “I assume that’s for me?” Taking it from Jean-Armand he put it in his vest pocket to read later. “I gather tis from King Louis.” A mock glare covered his features, as he pointed a finger at the other man. “Though why it takes His Majesty’s orders to get you here for a visit I don’t know. I should be mad, mon ami.”

“You do remember what I do for a living?” Dropping his soldier persona, Jean-Armand slapped Daviau’s back.

“And who is this strapping young man with you?” Not meaning to embarrass the lad, Daviau smiled with genuine warmth when the boy ducked his head.

“This is my filleul, d’Artagnan.” Noting the wide-eyed stare his friend gave him at Jean-Armand’s announcement, he pushed the lad a bit forward. “Alexandre finally let him come to Paris so he could train to become a Musketeer.”

“If the boy’s as good as his père I’d say that the king’s deuce lucky to have him in his regiment." Going to address d’Artagnan, Daviau observed the black cat staring back at him. The feline’s green eyes were almost hypnotic. “A lovely creature.” Glancing at the boy, and back again at the cat, Daviau drew closer. “I assume she or he belongs to you?”

“Oui,” assured d’Artagnan, with a slight dip of his head. “Her name is Spades and was instrumental in saving my life.”

Clapping his hands together, Daviau was pleased. “This I want to hear over a couple of glasses of good Armagnac brandy and a late lunch. I’ve been so occupied with other matters I forgot to eat at my normal hour.” Waving them to follow him, he took them to another part of his home. “I’m sure my chef still has some cooked beef leftover from last eve that Spades would like.”

++++

While enjoying their lunch Jean-Armand filled his friend in over what's transpired in his own life, though he'd admit to skimming over a goodly portion of it. He also mentioned recent events that had occurred since d’Artagnan’s arrival in Paris.

Not too surprised at what the boy had gotten himself involved in, after all the young Gascon was a d'Artagnan, Daviau said, “One man with courage is a majority.”

“Just don’t let it go to your head,” added Jean-Armand. Smiling at another painful blush that stole up the lad’s face, he promised himself to hold back upon the teasing. “D’Artagnan is under the misconception that he only needs a bit more polish because he feels that Alexandre, myself and Armand taught him most of what he needs to know in becoming a Musketeer.”

"D'Artagnan, I remember some sage advice my own papa once told me and I believe it applies to you as well." Taking a sip of brandy, Daviau continued. "Education is when you read the fine print... experience is what you get when you don't."

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan glared at both older men. "I've already taken care of that as Oncle Jean-Armand knows."

Daviau's brow arched, as his eyes slid toward his old friend.

Shrugging, Jean-Armand nodded. "The lad's spoken with Athos, Porthos and Aramis about pointers he still needs in most areas."

"Mmmmm, I would like to test your skill with a sword myself, d'Artagnan. If you don't mind that is." Knowing that he'd not only shocked the lad but Jean-Armand as well, Daviau's eyes sparkled with excitement he could barely contain.

Not knowing what was the proper thing to do d'Artagnan locked eyes with his parrain, silently asking for help.

Oh he was going to enjoy this. Nodding his assent, Jean-Arman's lips curled upward.

Having received approval, d'Artagnan dipped his head at their host. "Whenever you're ready, Monsieur."

Winking at Jean-Armand, pushing back his chair, Daviau stood up. "We shall take this outside. Just let me get my rapier from the study and I shall be with you momentarily."

Once the Comte walked away, d'Artagnan stared hard at his parrain and honorary oncle. "Are you sure this is wise?" Because he was very uncertain over it and yet filled with so much excess energy that he was looking forward to the match.

"Daviau won't know what hit him." Chuckling, Jean-Armand followed his filleul outside ready to enjoy the show.

++++

_Notes:_

_Parrain_ \- godfather  
_Filleul_ \- godson  
_Voleur_ \- thief  
_Bonne chance_ \- good luck

_Quote: "Being single is smarter than being in the wrong relationship."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "Single doesn't mean lonely and relationship doesn't always mean happy."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "Some days you meet someone and you immediately know you want to spend the rest of your days without them."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: “One man with courage is a majority.”_ – from Andrew Jackson (March 15, 1767 – June 8, 1845). He was an American soldier and statesman who served as the seventh president of the United States from 1829 to 1837.

_Quote: "Education is when you read the fine print... experience is what you get when you don't."_ \- from Pete Seeger (May 3, 1919 – January 27, 2014). He was an American folk singer and social activist.


End file.
